Horizon
by Mechanism Unknown
Summary: “Let’s not dwell in the past – look only towards the future!”—though the flicker in his eyes indicated that it was difficult for him to do so—“You will come back to France with me, won’t you, Haruhi?” Future fic, if you couldn't already tell.
1. Chapter 1: Gravity

**Title. **Horizon  
**Author. **Mech  
**Project Duration. **11/9/07—8/28/09  
**Applicable Genres. **Drama, with a dash of the humor that has to come with Ouran  
**Rating. **T  
**Warnings.** Interpretable homosexuality; minor OCs; alcohol; questions that are not to be answered immediately; unidentified flashbacks and time transitions; grave topics including but not limited to serious illness and depression; only minor inclusion of Takashi and Mitsukuni (sorry, fans)  
**Parings. **Nothing explicit, but interpretable just about everything  
**Summary. **"Let's not dwell in the past – look only towards the future!"—though the flicker in his eyes indicated that it was difficult for him to do so—"You _will_ come back to France with me, won't you, Haruhi?" Future fic, if you couldn't already tell.  
**Inspiration. **If I told you, it'd ruin the surprise(s).

**A Note on Language. **All the French used in this story comes from my own personal knowledge with the occasional use of a dictionary if necessary. I've had three semesters of college-level instruction, including two of Intermediate and one that was conducted entirely in French. Still, I'm not a native French speaker, so my grammar may not be perfect. All the Swedish – yes, Swedish; you'll discover the reasons later – used either comes from an online dictionary written by a native speaker that I found and/or the free program Byki Express, both of which include helpful, example phrases that are the limit of the usage here. As for notation:

"This was said in Japanese."

"This was said in English."

"_On a dit cela en français ou suédois."_ (This translates to: _"This was said in French or Swedish."_

Anything left untranslated is not necessary for the comprehension of the story, and mostly used for the fun of it and dramatic effect. That said, if you _can _understand it, good for you – you may be a step ahead of other readers. As for you, other readers – don't worry about it. You'll find out sooner or later.

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**Chapter 1**

_Are the memories I hold still valid or have the tears deluded them?  
_- "Gravity," Maaya Sakamoto

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He took a deep breath and knocked on the door, which opened shortly thereafter.

"_Dommage, ma chérie, parce que je n'ai pas peut trouver des fleurs assez jolie que toi! Alors, je crois que les fleurs de cette qualité n'existe pas."_

It first crossed her mind that his voice sounded all the more charming in French.

Then it occurred to her that she hadn't understood a single word he said, because it was in _French_.

Next Fujioka Haruhi wondered why Suou Tamaki was standing on her doorstep, holding a bouquet of red roses, and sporting some ostentatious garb that could only have come out of the Renaissance era. He smiled, and it gleamed so much in the sunlight that she couldn't but smile as well above her surprise. He didn't bother waiting for her voice to release itself from her throat before stepping into the apartment and searching for a vase.

"Tamaki—"

"I told you I'd come back for you, didn't I?" he interrupted, arranging the bouquet within a glass container taken from one of the cabinets.

"Yes, but—"

"Have I lost that handsomeness you so admired about me?" he wailed dramatically. It had been several years, but some things never change.

"I never admired that about you."

"Or have you found another? No, say it isn't so!" He flung his arms in the air and knelt down in front of her pleadingly.

"Tamaki-senpai," she deadpanned.

"Yes, my dear daughter?"

"How did you get my address?"

"Let's not dwell in the past – look only towards the future!"—though the flicker in his eyes indicated that it was difficult for him to do so—"You _will_ come back to France with me, won't you, Haruhi?" Standing up abruptly, he outstretched his hand for her to take. Her immediate reaction was one of hesitation, but before she could voice her concerns he silenced her with a finger to her lips. "You have Golden Week off, don't you? Spend it with me in France, and then make your decision."

Slowly, a smile crossed her lips. "All right." But as she reached for his hand, the pale, European fingers faded into the background, shocking her into exclaiming, "...Tamaki!?" and forgetting the honorific altogether. In its place she heard the voice of another man: "Fujioka-san? Fujioka-san...?" and in a daze wondered why Tamaki would be calling her such a thing. Someone grabbed her shoulder and shook; her eyes lazily drifted open.

"Tsukahara-san...?" she identified, prying her face off the manila folder that lay open on her desk. The man standing in front of it grinned warmly, the corners of his mouth crinkling with stress-filled wrinkles.

"Working late again, too, Fujioka-san? What do you say we head on home? I'll walk with you to the station." With a brief word of acceptance, Haruhi began gathering up her things quickly and efficiently, including the manila folder whose paper clipped contents had left its mark on her cheek. Lord knew how she could possibly march her way through this case, even with working additional hours at home. Less than two months after completing law school and passing the bar exam and already her career was giving her more than a fair share of dreams with which any psychic would have a blast. She had half a mind to give Kousaka a call and ask for advice – along with whether Tamaki was reallyin France and newly into the fashion of the Renaissance – but knew that giving in this early on in the game could only mean ominous failure.

On the way to the station, she took the opportunity to discuss the case with her paralegal in an attempt to clarify any detail that might be of assistance. Normally, she would have denied any offer for unnecessary companionship, but seeing as how they did, in fact, start the journey home from the same station and even the same platform, a rejection would have called for more trouble than an acceptance. At last freed from Tsukahara's friendly but overwhelming character, Haruhi stepped through the front door of her apartment, automatically hitting the button on the answering machine.

"You have – three – new messages. First message:"—The bubbly voice of her American friend from college came on the line.—"'Hey, Haruhi! This is Christina. Guess what!? I'm getting married! Let me know if you're going to visit the states again so you can come to the wedding, too. _Ciao!_ ...Oops, wrong language!'"

Click. Smiling fondly, Haruhi pressed the "delete" button.

"Second message:"—an equally exuberant tone—"'Haruhi-chan, you haven't called your father in such a long—'" Rolling her eyes, Haruhi hit the "delete" button once more.

"Third message:"—an unfamiliar voice—"'This is Hitachiin Industries, reminding you of your appointment scheduled for 11 o'clock AM tomorrow. Please be prompt. If you have any questions, please call 03-3364-2311.'"

(A/N: In case you were wondering, this is actually the phone number for the Shinjuku branch of the National Museum of Nature and Science in Tokyo.)

Her finger paused briefly over the button before shifting to the next one over.

"'This is Hitachiin Industries, reminding you of your appointment scheduled for 11 o'clock AM tomorrow. Please be prompt. If you have any questions, please call 03-3364-2311.'"

Okay, so she hadn't imagined it. But what did it mean? She had no memory of scheduling an appointment with the Hitachiins, especially considering how she hadn't seen nor heard from either of them since their high school graduation. Absentmindedly, she wondered if this could have any connection with her sudden, inconvenient dream concerning Tamaki and his equally mysterious status. Repeating the message one more time, she wrote down the number and immediately called it back. Hopefully, even though it was well past eight, someone would be there to answer.

"Hitachiin Industries, how may I help you?" the mechanical voice of the secretary answered automatically.

"This is Fujioka Haruhi," she began in response. "I received a message regarding a meeting tomorrow that I never scheduled, so I'm afraid you have the wrong person." But the reply was not one of the expected possibilities.

"I assure you that we do not, Fujioka-san. Hitachiin-sama specifically requested that we ensure your presence here at 11 tomorrow." Briefly wondering to whom the "we" referred, Haruhi wrinkled her brow and decided that it was probably best to just go with the flow.

"'Hitachiin-sama'?" she asked instead. "Which one?"

Uncharacteristically breaking her robotic staccato, the assistant sounded confused. "Hitachiin Hikaru-sama."

Without dwelling on the choice of twin indicated, she capitulated. "All right; I'll be there. Could I have the address, please?" After the answer was received and written down, they both said their polite good-byes and hung up the phone. Then, Haruhi stared at the post-it note in her hands for a solid minute before sighing and planning how she could possibly get to the address in Tokyo traffic, have the mysterious meeting, and return to the office, all within her lunch hour. Actually eating lunch would be helpful as well.

It wasn't until she was in a taxi the next day that it really occurred to her how she would be seeing her old friend after approximately five years. Half in a daze, she followed the guide up the elevator and down a few hallways through bustling crowds of individuals of a much higher class than herself. At last, the escort opened the wide, wooden doors to a room marked _Drawing Studio_.

"Hitachiin-sama, your 11 o'clock has arrived," he announced, bowing deeply. Glancing up from his hunched position at the long, lone table in the center of the room, Hikaru's look of frustration at whatever he was sketching instantly transformed into relief as he set tired, hazel eyes upon his guest.

"Haruhi!" he exclaimed as if he had not set up the meeting himself as she knew he had. "Good to see you. Come, have a seat." As she took him up on the offer, the escort let them be with a final bow. "How have you been? I bet you're making your way to the top of the lawyer food chain already."

"I'm trying, at least," she laughed. Glancing over to his half-finished picture, she wasn't quite sure whether or not to be affected by how the garment was clearly designed with Renaissance Europe in mind. "I've been all right; typical commoner lifestyle, I suppose – not that you would know what that's like." Shrugging, she tossed him a pointed, effective look. "What about you? Is Kaoru around?" Even before his solemn answer was admitted, his face clearly showed that she had asked the wrong question – or the right one, depending on one's point of view.

"Actually... that's why I called you here. Mostly." Averting his gaze, he picked up the pencil and began aimlessly filling in the shadows of the dress. "I want you to help me find him. You work in law; you're good at finding people, right?"

"'Find'?" Haruhi inquired, ignoring the rhetorical question. "What do you mean by that? You're his twin – don't you know where he is?" The instant the statement left her mouth and the guilt struck Hikaru's normally carefree features, she regretted it, cursing her unintentionally sharp tongue.

"It isn't my fault, Haruhi," he choked out, though clearly trying to convince himself more than her. "He hasn't contacted me since the summer after we graduated Ouran. He just told me that he had 'things to sort out' and left." Gripping the pencil tighter, he furiously erased one of the sleeves. Haruhi recalled how she had been seen off at the airport by only Hikaru – something about the other twin being busy. She wondered for how long Kaoru had been gone at that point, and how much force it must have taken for Hikaru to plaster that smile across his face.

"I finally got it out of my parents that he's in Stockholm," he continued, "but they don't know where exactly. He never told them. Why wouldn't he let me know where he is?" Even if the tone of the question had begged response, he didn't leave room for one. "So, I'm going to find him myself. You have Golden Week off, don't you? Come with me to Sweden, and help me find Kaoru. _Please_." At last, he turned a pleading gaze on her. Even if she had the heart to refuse his desperate request, she was fairly certain that he would have found some way to kidnap her and bring her along for the ride anyway. And so, she had to capitulate.

"On one condition: I _have _to be back by the end of Golden Week. If not, and I consequently lose my case, then you're responsible for the full retribution charges."

"Sure thing," conceded Hikaru. Beside her stern gaze, an honest smile lay on his face. "In that case, would you like to grab some lunch?"


	2. Chapter 2: Whereabouts Unknown

Thanks for the reviews/favorites/alerts! That said, if you did one of the latter but _not_ the former, I would really appreciate it if you shared with me what brought you to add this story to your favorites and/or alerts...

**Chapter 2**

_His whereabouts unknown  
__Please know you can come home  
__It's all right  
__I long for the moment our silence is broken  
__It's all right, it's all right, it's all right  
_- "Whereabouts Unknown," Rise Against

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Hikaru wandered throughout Stockholm for about an hour before he got tired of admiring the scenery and decided to try out one of these cafés that lined the cobblestone streets. The nearest one was similarly labeled with some unintelligible title – like Hikaru bothered to learn the language; it was far too boring – but the aromas and sounds coming from within were formidably inviting. He stepped inside and aimed for the barista.

Unfortunately, he was walking just a little too close when the someone who had just received his order turned from the counter. As a result, they collided with a light but still very hot drizzle of coffee splashing onto Hikaru's bare, lower arm. As the man muttered that country's apology, the redhead whipped around with a fierce glare. Just as he was about to unleash a string of complaints, including how he was _the _Hitachiin Hikaru, he caught sight of the pure, unreasonable shock that had splayed itself across the other's face.

"You..."

"What?" Hikaru prompted angrily, only to realize later that the interaction so far – if brief – had transpired in Japanese.

Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, the Swedish man ordered, "Come with me," in English, to which Hikaru raised an eyebrow in doubt.

"And why should I?" As the other headed towards the exit, the Hitachiin's curiosity couldn't help but follow along out the door and down the block. Luckily, as they entered into a nondescript building down the street, the first word out of his escort's mouth not only took Hikaru's mind off how the statement that followed was entirely in Swedish, but furthermore removed any regret he may have felt in obeying the command:

"Kaoru!"

"_Va_...?" was automatically replied, the owner of the familiar voice poking his head out from behind a canvas. Even though he had been anticipating – hoping for – this as a possibility, the breath still caught in Hikaru's throat. There was no mistaking his own face. The hair was different, and a streak of blue paint was smeared across the left cheek, but he knew those distinctive features perfectly.

"Long time, no see, Hikaru," he said with that smile Hikaru had once grown accustomed to seeing.

"After all this time, that's all you can say?" countered Hikaru. The stranger took advantage of the tense moment of silence between them to interject something directed at Kaoru, who replied promptly and swiftly – the foreign tongue especially strange spoken in his voice, Hikaru thought. After taking the now slightly less full coffee cup from his apparent companion, Kaoru placed it on a table nearby as the other took off towards the back room with his own drink.

"Have a seat," offered Kaoru once the separating door had closed.

"Who's that?" Hikaru asked, pulling out a stool from underneath a desk.

"Börje." Keeping their hazel eyes locked, he wiped the paint off his cheek with the corner of his smock. "He's... a friend from university."

"What university?" Pure curiosity.

"Konstfack."

"Oh... good for you." He tried smiling. "You could have told me you were going there."

"No, I couldn't have," he countered, definitively in contrast to his twin's forced nonchalance. "You would've tried to come with me."

"So?"

After a long, unnerving stare, Kaoru just shook his head and reached for his coffee. "It doesn't matter now, does it? It only matters that we got to see each other again."

Hikaru's expression twisted with confusion. "You say that like you're going off to war or something," he half-joked. Kaoru emitted a clearly forced laugh, but before the older brother could voice his concerns on the matter, he was interrupted by the Swede's – whose name Hikaru had promptly let slip from his short-term memory – return.

"So, what are you two doing? Are you going back home?" he asked, tying a smock around his noticeably lean figure.

"Yeah, probably," Kaoru answered uncertainly, afterwards turning to face his brother, "unless you'd like to hang out here while I paint this." He gestured towards the canvas behind which he had, at first, been hiding.

"If you have to... " Hikaru accepted, though clearly with reservations. "I can't interrupt your work."

"Go on," insisted Börje, rolling his eyes in exasperation at the potentially circular conversation. Reluctantly, the twins stood from their seats and prepared to leave, the younger hanging up his smock and washing his colorful hands in the process. _"__Jag älskar dig__,"_ the other man told Kaoru as they turned towards the door.

"_Jag med__,"_ Kaoru smiled back at him. _"__Vi ses senare."_ As he closed the door behind them, he turned to his brother with the unusual cheer. "So, Hikaru, are you hungry? We could go out for lunch before heading to the apartment."

"Sure... but we should probably pick up Haruhi from the library beforehand. She came with me," he added, though unsure of the exact phrasing he should use to accurately describe the circumstances regarding their joint departure.

"I know; Mom told me. Which library?" he continued, hailing down a taxi, leaving no opportunity for comment on either his conversation with their mother or why he was bothering for a cab when Hikaru had managed to walk the distance from the library (absentmindedly, but still). As Hikaru recited the name he had read on the building's front, Kaoru laughed at his poor pronunciation of the Swedish words, then promptly corrected it. Hikaru scowled, but it was far more due to the prospect of his twin's suddenly introduced ability to speak a foreign language that he himself could not than his own mistake. On the way to the site, Kaoru and the taxi driver engaged in an unintelligible conversation as Hikaru stared at the window at the passing streets of Stockholm.

The city didn't suit them, he decided.

"What do you think, Hikaru?" Kaoru asked as they entered the library. "Should we sneak up on her?" Nodding, Hikaru smirked, relieved that at least something of the familiar had not changed. Regardless of the scattered, odd glances they received from a few patrons, they sneaked through the bookshelves until they located the girl in the reference section, buried in texts and file folders. Then, on the silent count of three, the twins stepped forward and simultaneously sat down on either side of her. Not surprisingly, she jumped at the sudden sensation of arms on her shoulders.

"K-Kaoru... your hair..." she stumbled out, caught in the rush of surprises.

"You like?" he asked, running a hand through blond and orange mixed among short strands.

"It's... different," she offered. "No one would have trouble telling you two apart now."

"You'd be surprised." Somehow, the brief wince that flashed across his features before morphing into a wry smile indicated deeper meaning to the exchange than he verbally shared. Ignoring the stare that Hikaru threw him over Haruhi's head, he began gathering the alluring papers that lay spread out on the table before them into a pile. "You didn't come all the way to Sweden to work, did you? Come on, at least explore the culinary wonders here."

"Thank you, but I can organize my own papers," Haruhi returned, scooping them from his hands and filing them within manila folders. "I take it that was an invitation to lunch?"

"Indeed," Hikaru answered, though unintentionally alone; Kaoru's mouth had opened and closed again, indicating that he had been about the return the answer as well, but then decided against it for reasons unbeknownst to the elder twin. Mentally shrugging off the oddity, Hikaru stood up from his seat in a motion of intended departure. Once Haruhi had gathered her belongings, the other two followed soon after. Kaoru led them back out the library and down the street, pointing out restaurants and cafés and requesting preferences. After a roundabout conversation, they finally decided on a random joint halfway down the street.

"Were you two thinking of staying at the apartment tonight?" Kaoru wondered aloud once they were seated on the veranda. "Or did you have a hotel...?"

"We couldn't possibly—" started Haruhi, but was overpowered by Hikaru's more forthright response.

"Can we?" he asked, ignoring her attempt at politeness. At first, Kaoru seemed taken aback by the desperation in his twin's voice, but soon enough shoved it down.

"Someone has to take the sleeper sofa, but sure..." he trailed off as he caught sight of the determination in his twin's stare as their eyes met. Reaching across the table, Hikaru took Kaoru's hand in his own.

"Kaoru, I want to sleep with you."

When he averted his gaze in order to avoid the depths of the other, he caught Haruhi staring at them in interest. The sigh that emerged was long and regretful. "Hikaru, I thought you grew out of that."

"We did, but it's been forever. I've waited _five years_ for you, Kaoru – I think I deserve at least this once." With a squeeze of the hand, he dared his younger brother to argue against this point. And so, Kaoru had to capitulate, letting his twin's relief at the allowance outweigh his own dissatisfaction with the reversal. For a moment, Hikaru thought he had his twin back; that is, until Kaoru starting speaking Swedish to the server.

"What do you want to drink, Hikaru?"

"Do they have any vodka?"

Kaoru raised an eyebrow at the request, but nonetheless asked the same of the waiter.


	3. Chapter 3: Long, Long Way to Go

**Chapter 3**

_Anyone who knew us both could see  
__You always were the better part of me  
__I never wanted to be this free  
__And all this pain... does it go away?_

_And every time I turn around  
__And you're nowhere to be found  
__I know I've got a long, long way to go  
__Before I can say good-bye to you  
__I've got a long, long way to know  
B__efore I can say good-bye to all I ever knew - to __you  
- _"Long, Long Way to Go," Def Leppard

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Walking into the apartment strongly reminded him of the first day the Host Club stepped into Haruhi's house so many years ago. He thought that it must be hard for Kaoru to live in such tight spaces, though this place was bigger than he remembered Haruhi's being. It was also a lot more modern and Western, of course; the stainless steel of the full-size dishwasher and range playing off flecks of silver in the granite countertops. There also hadn't been a strange (or so Hikaru considered him), Swedish man standing in Haruhi's kitchen, putting away the groceries like he had lived there for a long time.

"I'm home!" greeted Kaoru, closing the door after his two guests and their suitcases.

"Welcome back," returned Börje with a friendly enough smile for them all – even Hikaru's perceivably dirty look – before turning back to his task. After stepping across the hardwood floor, Kaoru opened the curtains to let in more light and a moderate view of the city.

"Make yourselves at home," he offered the others. As Haruhi placed her briefcase of files down on the coffee table, she offered a stereotypical yet honest compliment. "Thanks, but it's mostly Börje." Nevertheless, he let his cheeks redden at the praise. At the sound of his name, the indicated Swede glanced over from the kitchen to share in a silent look.

"What took you so long?" he then asked, switching to English, though more out of curiosity than admonishment. "I thought you were coming straight here."

"We stopped for lunch and to pick up their suitcases on the way," explained Kaoru, gesturing towards the guests and their luggage. "They're staying for the night – is that okay?" In response to Kaoru's hopeful grin, Börje eventually agreed to the arrangement, although his expression – not quite as pleased – revealed his true uncertainty over the matter. Having included Haruhi on the guest list, it occurred to Kaoru that he had yet to introduce her and his roommate, and so promptly did so. As they faded into a light, cordial conversation, Kaoru stole his brother's attention with a more serious inquiry. "Hikaru, when mom told you where I was, did she give you the condition, too?"

A shiver ran up Hikaru's spine as the memory restarted in his mind. "Y-yeah..." he stumbled, having hoped that in the joy of their reunion that one detail would have been lost. Unfortunately, the critical stare that Kaoru was throwing him now spoke just the opposite.

"You haven't done it yet, have you?"

"Don't rush me! I'll get to it."

Folding his arms across his thin chest, Kaoru grinned as if he had just won a game. "Okay. Remember, you promised." Casually walking away, he offered to show Haruhi the room in which she was to stay for the night.

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It wasn't the first time Yuzuha walked into her son's studio to see Hikaru passed out on the table, tears on his face smearing the charcoal lines of his sketches. Technically the area belonged to both of the twins, but the younger one hadn't been around in quite some time. It was for this reason that there lay a half-empty glass of vodka on the table and dark circles under Hikaru's eyes. Sighing, Yuzuha made her way over to gently shake the sleeping figure. Gradually, his hazel eyes slid open as he mumbled a series of vague apologies and excuses.

"Hikaru, you should get to bed," she advised as she always did as this time.

"I would, but I can't sleep – not without Kaoru," he argued once again, hoping that one day it would convince his parents to answer his plea. For emphasis, he reached for his glass of vodka; a motion upon which Yuzuha frowned but did not comment.

"This is getting too far out of hand. It's time for me to do something about it." After waiting for him to finish his drink, she took the cup from his hands, placing it out of his reach. "I talked to him today, desperate for him to understand that neither of you are getting anywhere with this arrangement."—His eyes widened in hopeful anticipation.—"Finally, I managed to convince him to let me direct you to him, but only on one condition."

"_Anything –_ I'll do anything." Ignoring the stipulation, he latched onto her shoulders, drunk on both relief and alcohol. She hated to see that joy fade with the requirement with which he was about to be presented.

"He said you have to ask that Fujioka girl to marry you. Ha-ru-hi... was that her name?"

The next time Hikaru talked to Kyouya, he asked if there was any way he could obtain Haruhi's number.

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Hikaru's eyes shot open to see the empty half of a sleeper sofa next to him. He instantly sat up and sent his gaze around the room in near panic. Luckily, the space was relatively small, and so it did not take long for him to pick out his twin's frame from behind the glass doors. Frowning because it was probably cold outside, Hikaru stood up and made his way to the balcony. The sound of the door sliding open turned Kaoru's head, revealing a surprised expression and a cell phone in the process of being flipped closed.

"It's freezing out here," Hikaru commented, stepping over. Stuffing his hands in the pockets of his pajama pants, he regretted not grabbing his coat on the way out as Kaoru had.

"It's Scandinavia," said individual replied nonchalantly with a cough. Hikaru shivered, thinking of all the things his twin had done in the past 12 hours that he had never seen before – from the painting to the roommate to the Swedish. It was almost unbelievable to Hikaru that this was really Kaoru, because the Kaoru he knew didn't do these things. But it had to be Kaoru, because Kaoru was Kaoru, and Kaoru was standing right next to him on the balcony of his Stockholm apartment, running a hand through cropped, blond hair.

Even if Hikaru could have found something to say, the door opening once more would have interrupted him before he could get the first word out. A moment later, Kaoru found himself scooped up into another's arms, the cell in his hands captured in those of Börje.

"Come; you're going back to bed," ordered the Swede, marching back into the apartment regardless of childish protests. After lightly yet unceremoniously dumping Kaoru on the sleeper sofa, the other then returned to his own room without another word. Once Hikaru had recovered from his initial shock at the sudden interruption, he too came back inside, sliding the door closed behind him. Gingerly, he approached the melancholic form of his twin, sprawled across the covers.

"Kaoru...?"

Hazel eyes blinked sideways at him. "He gets really upset when I do stupid things," he only partially explained. The older twin's frown deepened. Although he had to agree that seeking fresh air in the middle of the night hadn't been the most intelligent decision on Kaoru's part, it had by no means warranted such a powerful reaction. "Don't worry about it."

"If you say so..." His little brother's smile was so reassuring in of itself that Hikaru regretted his inability to trust it this time.

After returning his jacket to its proper place by the front door, Kaoru took the other's hand in his own on his way back to bed. "Come on, let's go back to sleep." Together, they climbed underneath the sheets, though neither of them really wanted to sleep and lose sight of the other from their vision. Eventually, however, jet lag overcame one, and pure exhaustion overcame the other.

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Hikaru's eyes shot open. The blankets beside him were neat, organized, and – most importantly – void of his twin once again. He instantly sat up and glanced around the room in search of the missing brother. Kaoru was not to be seen, but the sunlit environment that did enter into his vision quelled his fears of the unhealthy cold. The smell of eggs and bacon wafted up his nose. A look towards the source revealed Börje located in the kitchen, crisply dressed save for the dish towel slung over his shoulder and stirring food in a frying pan before him with a spatula. On the bar side of the counter, Haruhi sat with her own plate of breakfast. At the sudden, rustling noise, the two glanced up and spotted the second guest having woken from his slumber.

"Good morning, Hikaru," greeted Haruhi, sipping at a glass of orange juice.

"Note for you," the man added in his heavily accented Japanese, indicating a pad of paper that lay beside her plate. Twisting his brow in frustration, Hikaru stood up from the makeshift bed and grabbed the paper.

"Mornin', Haruhi," he muttered as his gaze fell upon the words:

_Good morning, Hikaru! I hope you slept well. Börje's so very nicely making you breakfast, so please eat it. I have to go into the studio for a short time this morning, but I'll be done by about 2:30. Maybe I can show you and Haruhi around the city some more if you'd like. Feel free to explore on your own, but try not to get too lost. :P_

_Love, Kaoru._

_P.S. Channels 263 through 268 are in English, so you might try them if you're bored._

Hikaru lowered the piece of paper just as his European breakfast was placed in front of him. He sat down on the barstool and tried to eat it without looking too sour at being left without his brother so soon and with some strange person he thought said brother didn't even know well enough. At least things seemed to have cleared up since the incident the night before. Unfortunately for Hikaru, the Sunday morning left Börje with nothing else to do but stick around the house as the two Japanese guests occupied themselves; Haruhi with her work, and Hikaru with aimlessly flipping through channels 263 through 268 on the television.


	4. Chapter 4: Here With Me

**Q:** The only thing is I'm not sure if Kaoru is happy to see Hikaru or not... Sometimes he seems happy, and the other it seems as if it's a bother.  
**A: **Interesting to know that's how it's coming across. I would equate it to their whole "us and them" scenario, where both the twins treated the concept of opening up their world as an unnecessary bother, when really they were scared to let anyone else in.

**Chapter 4**

_It's been a long, long time since I've looked into the mirror  
__I guess that I was blind  
__Now my reflection's getting clearer  
__Now that you're gone, things will never be the same again  
__There's not a minute that goes by of every hour of every day  
__You're such a part of me but I just pulled away  
_- "Here With Me," Michelle Branch

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"I'm home," Kaoru announced cheerfully as he walked in the door, smiling despite the tiredness in his eyes and slipping off his shoes. "Did you go anywhere?"

"Naw, there's not much I especially wanted to see," answered Hikaru, assuming the question was primarily directed at him. Haruhi could have already been awake before Kaoru left, giving her the opportunity to make the importance of her case over her desire to explore the area – exciting as it may be for some – well known.

"You didn't come all the way to Sweden just to sit on your ass, did you?" Grinning, Kaoru playfully nudged Hikaru on the shoulder. Frowning, the latter debated voicing that in finding the former, his travel goal had already been completed, and thus he wanted nothing more to do with the foreign country. Fortunately for the current, upbeat air, Kaoru continued before the other could voice his rebuttal. "Why don't we go out for a few hours before dinner? Haruhi, you should come, too."

"I suppose I could use a break," she admitted, lowering the manila folder onto the table. At the movement suggestive of an event to come shortly, Börje at last spoke up, though he had been paying close attention to the conversation thus far in an attempt to fully grasp its content. Similarly, even though neither Hikaru nor Haruhi understood the spoken content of the exchange that followed, the man's concern when he put down the stack of papers he had been studying to do the same with Kaoru's appearance was evident. After much insistence, Kaoru was finally able to wave him off long enough to show his other friends a guidebook of the area.

When they returned from their sightseeing, Börje repeated his actions of worry over Kaoru's condition once more before sitting them down to dinner.

"You're fine; right, Kaoru?" Hikaru asked, frowning. Instantly, he received a confirmatory nod in response. "Then why does he think you aren't?" Sure, Kaoru's skin appeared slightly paler than usual, but the long, Scandinavian winters offered little sun compared to Tokyo. He might have avoided walking for long distances while they were out, taking the metro at every opportunity, but surely he was tired after a day of work.

Kaoru shrugged it off nonchalantly. "He's just paranoid," he answered offhandedly. Turning his attention to the meal in front of them, he silently labeled the conversation as over.

"How long were you planning on staying?" cut in Börje curiously once it was clear that the half-intelligible, Japanese exchange had been completed.

"Well, we have to leave time in Golden Week for visiting the Lord in Paris," Hikaru answered, successfully distracted from the previous subject and simultaneously earning Haruhi's attention.

"Paris?" she repeated in wonder.

"Yeah." The lack of explanation that followed indicated that he missed the implications for request of further information. "I'm sure he wants to see both of you after all these years. You want to come to?" he added, turning to Börje, though if one knew him well enough it was clearly not out of politeness but spite.

"I would love to," replied Börje cheerfully enough, "but I have class."

"Oh, come on, you can miss a few day of classes." He easily waved off the issue. Mid-laugh, Kaoru stopped himself from choking on a new mouthful of noodles. Börje just stared at the unknowing twin.

"Not when I'm teaching them." Exchanging glances with Kaoru, their eyes shared silent laughter. Once he recovered from a shocked moment of silence, Hikaru clenched his fork tighter, using it to shove another clump of food into his mouth and thereby failing miserably at camouflaging his discomfort.

"Why don't you go on ahead, Haruhi?" Kaoru continued in question, knowing that dwelling further on the previous topic might result in disaster. "I'm sure you would like some one-on-one time to catch up with the Lord."

Haruhi's mouth opened, then closed again. Although she wished to reject the connotations of that statement, in the pure sense conversation unadulterated by the twins' snide comments didn't sound so bad. In fact, after all the changes she had discovered in the twins themselves over the past few days, it sounded like a beneficial experience. "I guess... if you two want time to yourselves as well..." As anticipated, the two redheads exchanged glances, and for once Haruhi wasn't sure if they had also traded sentiments.

"You're sure you're okay flying by yourself?"

"I've done it before, Hikaru." She rolled her eyes. "It can't be more than a few hours to Paris from here."

Little did Haruhi know that although the trip from Stockholm to Paris served no issue, from the Charles de Gaulle airport to the address Hikaru gave her proposed problem enough. For one, not only did the taxi driver know little English, it was obvious that he hardly even spoke French. For another, although the similar proportion of the building that appeared at the end of the irritating drive as compared to those she had seen of her rich, Ouran friends back in Japan summoned auspice for the homeowner's well-being, the row of children lined up in front of a series of cars out front provided nothing but puzzlement.

"Excuse me, I don't think this is the right—" Haruhi tried, but the grumpy man cut her off.

"_Va-t'en, va-t'en__!" _he cried, waving at her. Out of a smidgen of good fortune and/or lack of communication, he neglected to collect her payment before driving off at what would've been high speeds had it not been a school zone. With a resigned sigh, she headed past the strange glances to the front door and into what appeared to be the office. Upon her entrance, the blond yet not in the least familiar young man glanced up from his desk.

"_Puis-je... vous aider__?" _he asked cautiously with a scrunched brow to match. With a deep breath, she hoped that he had better English than the taxi driver.

"I'm looking for Tamaki Suou. I was told I could find him here."

"'Tamaki'?" he repeated with surprise, but fortunately that of the pleasant sort. "Oh, you must mean René! _Bien s__û__r_, of course; he is in his office." With these unintentionally comforting words and the corresponding gesture towards a door at the back of the room, Haruhi could at least breathe a sigh of relief. After thanks and a bow, she followed the direction and entered into the indicated office.

Later she would absentmindedly wonder who had been more taken aback by the appearance of the other; him, for his state of ignorance, or her, for his state of uncanny resemblance to the very same character she had once known in high school – not counting the slightly longer hair and less tacky suit-and-tie ensemble, that is.

"Hikaru didn't tell me you were working at a school," she broke the silence, gazing around the room at the ancient, European architecture, "but I suppose that makes sense, considering Suou-sensei..."

"Hi-Hikaru? Is he how you got here?" Tamaki returned after a moment, for once unsure of what to say.

"Yeah, he gave me the address. He's coming himself tomorrow." As previously instructed, she carefully left out the part of Kaoru – hopefully – joining his twin on the trip.

Then, suddenly, as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening, he smiled as he always had before. "Wonderful! I'm really happy to see you again, Haruhi. Can I hug you?"

"No." Regardless of her verbal objection, even before the word left her mouth she was caught in a rush of centripetal forces. "Tamaki-senpai!"

"No more 'senpai' – we're equals now, aren't we? _Please_?"

"I suppose... Just let me go, Tamaki!"

As light as a feather, he dropped her back on her feet. "I'm just about to get off work," he continued with typical nonchalance. "You're coming home with me, aren't you?"

"So I was told, but I certainly don't want to impose—"

"No, not at all!" he interrupted. "You're always welcome. You're part of the family, after all. Remember, dear daughter?" Haruhi rolled her eyes, but on the inside she concerned herself over how much of the statement was meant to be jocular. However, she didn't have much time to ponder on the subject, as she was soon swept up with Tamaki's suit jacket and briefcase and, along with her suitcase, taken out the door with only a brief – if amiable – farewell to the man at the front desk.

By that time, all the students to which the cars out front had belonged had been picked up and taken back home. A good number remained, however, playing a game of soccer under the supervision of the playground attendant. One of them – a small girl about three or four years old with a head full of blond curls – ran over even before Tamaki waved and cheerfully called out, "Héloïse!" just as she exclaimed her own, "_Papa_!"

Scooping her up into his waiting arms, he twirled her around in the air much as he had tried to do with Haruhi but minutes before. "Ready to go home?" he asked. She nodded vigorously, peering over the man's shoulder at the stranger. "Aunt Haruhi's coming with us, all the way from Japan." Through his proud smile, Haruhi absentmindedly wondered how she could possibly be the girls' aunt if she was supposed to be his daughter as well, but did not question the juvenile blonde's familial designations. Instead, she tried her best to smile friendlily. Upon seeing this welcoming gesture, a small smile broke out on Héloïse's face as well.

"Nice to meet you," offered Haruhi as they began walking towards the sidewalk. Due to the other's state of a shy preschooler, the lack of response was taken with no spite.

It wasn't until they had climbed aboard the metro that it occurred to Haruhi: _Daughter? And home... did that mean... mother?_ It hadn't been that long, had it? She herself felt like her life beyond education had just begun, and here the others were – Hikaru on his way to heading the Hitachiin fashion industry, Kaoru with a new home, best friend, and career of his own, and Tamaki with a family. She wondered what possible twists Kyouya could add to the picture. At least Mori and Honey had notified them of their own intentions. Even if they had not, the news coverage of international martial arts competitions that Haruhi had watched precisely for this purpose would have told the story for them.

For now, Tamaki's story lay behind those cerulean eyes as he played with his apparent daughter, waiting to be released through the right questions that Haruhi couldn't bring herself to ask.


	5. Chapter 5: Endless Sorrow

**Chapter 5**

_What if you're alone and suddenly become blind?  
__And what if despite that you kept walking forward?  
_- "Endless Sorrow," Ayumi Hamasaki

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After getting off the metro, they walked a few more blocks down twisted streets until their leader halted in a quaint, quiet neighborhood. Wrapped in a wrought iron fence, the house was just as anachronistic as Tamaki's outfit had been in Haruhi's previous dream. She supposed it fit his traditional, chivalrous character. Passing a garden of red, white, and purple roses, she and Héloïse followed Tamaki up the cobblestone walkway to the front door. Like a gentleman, he held open the door for her, still carrying their respective cases, before stepping inside himself. Haruhi paused just past the doorstep to look around at the Victorian décor. Before she could think of an appropriate compliment to pay, Tamaki bounded past her, calling,

"Mom, look who followed me home from school!" Shortly after, Héloïse came tromping by as well.

"It's not like I had much of a choice..." she corrected deadpan, traveling after her excited friend into the room at their right. From the "mom," Haruhi expected to find either the supposed wife, or perhaps even Tamaki's real mother; presumably, after returning to France, he managed to find the woman he missed so much. Her breath caught in her throat at the true sight that followed.

Ootori Kyouya – _so _this _was the "mom" to which he had been referring _– sat on one of the velvet couches. Tamaki had stopped by his side, and was now holding onto his hand that draped itself over the arm of the couch. Kyouya's other hand rested on the book in his lap, showing he had been reading, though there were clearly no words on the page. Unadorned with glasses, his eyes remained distant as he stared straight ahead instead of looking up at his guests.

"Do you know Aunt Haru too, _mama_?" Héloïse asked, clutching onto his pant leg. "She from Japan – like Uncle Hika, right?"

"That's right, _ma petite choux_," Kyouya replied, smiling in such a way Haruhi had never seen in him before. Following the path of the child's arm attached to his leg, he reached over to pat her blonde curls in uncharacteristic affection. "I know her quite well." A moment of silence passed in which Tamaki switched quick glances between her and Kyouya, as if waiting for someone else to make the first move. "Come over here and have a seat, Haruhi."

Suppressing the awkwardness she felt, Haruhi did as she was told and walked over to the couch Kyouya was occupying. She sat down beside him, if a bit gingerly. From this distance, she could see the tiny bumps of Braille that lined the pages of the book in his hands.

"It's nice to see you again," Kyouya greeted at last, his voice holding sincere congeniality. With but a few, soft words in French, Tamaki picked up Héloïse and carried her into the next room, from whence a middle-aged women in an apron was peeking curiously from behind the door frame. Upon speaking, they shut the door behind them, leaving the two remaining in the living room to their own devices.

Haruhi swallowed the nervous lump in her throat. "No, you can't _see_ me, can you?" she replied, slow with care.

Kyouya chuckled. "As blunt and perceptive as ever." The amused upturn of his lips turned into a small but serious frown. "No, I can't. A rare case of retinitis pigmentosa – a degenerative eye disease," he answered without her having to ask the question.

Haruhi thought it polite to express sympathy, but could not find the words. Kyouya just wasn't the Shadow King without eyesight – all omniscient metaphors were lost. "So those intimidating glasses in high school weren't just for show, huh?" she commented instead, speaking her musings aloud.

"Not entirely." If she wasn't mistaken, the slight amusement returned to his tone, lightening the atmosphere in the room by a small but appreciable amount.

"And Héloïse?" The French word strange to her tongue; she was sure she had the accent wrong. Luckily, the other didn't seem to mind the diversion.

"A girl from the Center. That idiot has taken a particular liking to her, and insisted on bringing her into his personal care."

"She doesn't have any parents?"

"I'd have half a mind to say she thinks _we're _her parents, for she insists on calling us as such."

Though she felt disheartened to hear of an once-orphaned girl, Haruhi couldn't help but laugh a little at the comment. "Just like Tamaki, then."

"Unfortunately so."

"Kyouya!" the voice of Tamaki reprimanded just then, as if on cue. In the frame of the newly-opened doorway, he demonstrated his best pout. "Héloïse needs both a father and a mother figure, and who better to play the part of the mother than _mama_?"

It was strange to see a blind man roll his eyes.

"Who gave you permission to listen in on our conversation?" he demanded of Tamaki, his more natural tone of scorn leaking in.

"I wasn't eavesdropping!" the other insisted emphatically. A moment later, he switched into self-inflicted conceit mode. "With all the talk of my greatness, the words but flow into my ears."—a charming grin—"Now that they have been exchanged, it's time for the grand tour." With that implication, he took Haruhi by the hand and pulled her – if gently – off the couch.

"Afterwards," Kyouya called after them as they headed back towards the foyer, "why don't you play us a song?" By the momentary delay of Tamaki's glad, affirmative response, Haruhi could tell she hadn't imagined the request implicit within the recommendation. However, she was soon enough distracted as her guide directed them up the carpeted staircase. On the way, he grabbed her suitcase from its location of left in the foyer. Three doors later – the first was Kyouya's, the second his own – he showed her the guest room. Although it was about the size of a good room at Misuzu's Karuizawa pension, the other must have considered it – like the rest of the spaces in the house – remarkably small compared to their mansions back in Japan. Leaving her to get settled, Tamaki returned to the room from whence they had come. Soon enough, musical waves began filtering through the floorboards, successfully drawing her attention from storing away her clothes in the dresser provided.

As she crossed the threshold between the foyer and the living area once more with consternation, her eyes fell upon Kyouya in the most relaxed pose in which she had ever seen him, with his head resting upon the couch cushions and fingers curled around the edges of his book. At the other side of the room, in front of the baby grand piano sat Tamaki, as lost in his music as ever. Next to him on the bench, Héloïse mimicked the smooth motions of his hands with her own as they danced across the keys. At these sights and sounds, Haruhi couldn't help but let a sweet smile float upon her lips. It wasn't long before she, too, became lost in the music, allowing it to gently push her into the nearest lounge chair with a sigh. So long had it been since she had last heard Tamaki perform; she had no idea what a pleasure it would be to hear it again.

Far too soon he cascaded into the last notes. After a breath of satisfaction, he immediately turned to his daughter in order to praise her on excellent imitation skills. Haruhi wanted to pay him a compliment herself, but knew his inflated ego would only launch him into a monologue as a result.

"Tamaki, how cold is it outside?" Kyouya seemingly randomly asked then, sitting up from his relaxed position on the couch. In contrast, the blonde appeared more concerned than confused over the inquiry.

"Not very, but it's getting dark," he answered, unconsciously glancing out the window. Still unnerved by the drastic change, Haruhi couldn't help but be taken aback at how Kyouya couldn't have made the simple observation himself. "Have Mireille bring you in for dinner. I'll order some take-out."

Kyouya nodded in acknowledgment. "Héloïse, would you like to play outside for a bit?" Instantly, the girl's attention perked. Clambering off the piano bench, she ran excitedly over to her so-called mother.

"Play outside!" she repeated as a form of affirmative response. Taking her small hand in his, Kyouya flawlessly guided himself across the living room floor.

"_Mireille_?" he called, summoning the middle-aged woman from down the hall. "_On va dehors_." Continuing in half-broken French – proving that even Ootori Kyouya wasn't good at everything – his voice faded as they disappeared past the door frame.

"What would you like for dinner, Haruhi?" asked Tamaki before the silence could take their place. After removing a pile of take-out menus from a drawer in the credenza, he handed her the few of them that belonged to Japanese restaurants. To her relief, the titles were only romanized and not translated into French like the descriptions.

Even Mireille, the nanny, sat down for dinner with them once she had prepared the table. As she cut up Héloïse's serving into bite-sized pieces, Tamaki directed Kyouya around the contents of the take-out containers. True to his lighthearted character that to Haruhi's relief had not seemed to have drastically faded over these past years, Tamaki kept the conversation flowing, describing to her his day at work at the "Center" – primarily a boarding school for orphans, she learned – and asked her about her own occupational environment. It started to seem as normal as a make-shift family could get.


	6. Chapter 6: Only One in Color

**Chapter 6**

_I've been searching all my life  
__I used to be so color blind  
__You opened up my eyes  
__Do you want to share your dreams?  
__See a different side of me?  
_- "Only One in Color," Trapt

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"Kyouya..." Tamaki called in sing-song as he pranced into the room. The stars in his eyes shown as he recounted his apparently splendid day. Kyouya merely rubbed his temples in annoyance; this had become a common occurrence by now, but it was still far from enjoyable. It was at times like these that he didn't know what demon had possessed him when he made the decision to accept Tamaki's invitation of rooming together.

Oh, right. Every millimeter farther away from his father, the better.

He blinked. It went dark for a moment, then the light returned just as quickly as it had disappeared. The words to _Das Unbehagen in der Kultur_ seemed to float off the page. As his head started to throb, he laid down his glasses and closed his eyes in order to loosen the strain on the nerves and prevent the pain from worsening. Tamaki stopped turning around when he heard something that turned out to be those glasses hit the desk. He mentally took a step back at the sight of his friend biting his lip, clearly in pain.

"Kyouya? Are you okay?" he asked worriedly, stepping over.

"I'm fine," the other insisted, supporting his head with the back of his hand.

Either Tamaki didn't hear him or didn't believe him. "Does your head hurt? Maybe you should rest for a bit," he suggested, though he knew Kyouya rarely stopped studying for anything less than an earthquake. Tamaki picked up the abandoned glasses, lifted them to his face, and nearly fell over. The prescription was much stronger than he remembered it being. So strong, in fact, that Tamaki had to wonder how it could help anybody unless they were nearly —

"Kyouya." The other looked up at him, but there was a strange haze in his eyes, as if he couldn't really identify what he was seeing. He took the glasses from Tamaki's hand and replaced them, but the haze did not improve until after he narrowed his eyes. "Is there something wrong with your eyes?" For a long moment, all he received in reply was a deep stare. Then, Kyouya sighed, turning back to his reading.

"I have an appointment at 3:30 on Thursday. You can come with me then."

"Oh... Okay." In truth, Tamaki didn't want to wait about matters that concerned his friends, but he didn't dare press the matter further at the moment. It was clear that Kyouya didn't wish to talk about it. As a result, the blonde resigned himself to his assignment for the day.

Thursday didn't come fast enough, he decided. Tamaki struggled against the urge to hold his friend's hand in comfort as the doctor flashed bright lights in his eyes and took pictures at far too close a proximity and asked him all these hard questions and made him describe a set of funny circles (the doctor's expression said he didn't do too well on that part; it must've been the first test Kyouya ever failed). Then the doctor called them over and showed them a couple of strange pictures on his computer. Both were grotesque, redish circles with little blue lines running through them, though one also contained worm-like streaks of black along one edge.

The doctor took a deep breath and pointed at the left picture. "This is what Kyouya-sama's eyes looked like about four years ago. As you can see, it appears relatively normal," he explained. He then pointed to the photo on the right – the one infested with the black worms. "This is what Kyouya-sama's eyes look like now. These gaps"—He indicated the black squiggles.—"are damaged cone cells in the retina. Over time, the entire retina will deteriorate, and so will Kyouya-sama's vision."

Tamaki latched onto Kyouya's wrist and squeezed, a gesture to which the other only replied with an odd glance. "You mean... Kyouya's losing his sight?" he choked out.

"I'm afraid so." When a reply was not heard within due time, the doctor turned around to catch the reason. He stopped and stood up abruptly when he saw the look of near-tears on the blond boy's face. "I-I'm going to check on the other test results," he said as an excuse; it was clear that they needed to be left alone for a minute. As soon as he was gone, Tamaki pulled Kyouya into his arms. Soon enough, the latter's shirt was soaked in salt water.

"Why, Kyouya? Why didn't you tell me sooner? There has to be something I can do," Tamaki cried, though muffled by the fabric.

"No, Tamaki," replied the other as soothingly as he could manage, "there's nothing you can do. There is no cure, no treatment. Telling you sooner would have simply caused more unnecessary worry."

"'Unnecessary'?" He glanced up with swollen cerulean eyes into the haze of grey. "Kyouya, I know you're strong and you can get through this, but that doesn't mean others shouldn't worry about you. I'd hardly call this"—He wiped away a tear that Kyouya didn't know was forming at the base of his eyes.—"_unnecessary_." Kyouya had to smile bemusedly. He took the hand against his cheek in his own before it could disappear and held it there against the skin. Stepping closer, he leaned his forehead against the warmer one. Tamaki wondered if he _had _to come that close – not that he minded – in order to see him clearly.

"Then again, perhaps there is one thing you can do," Kyouya began. Tamaki perked up expectantly. "Next time we go to your house, will you play a song for me?"

His face lit up along with those purple-blue eyes. "Of course! Anything for you, _mon ami_." Later, as they leaned against one another and Tamaki's pale fingers danced across the keys, Kyouya asked,

"Will you play for me even when I can no longer see what you're doing?"

"Of course," Tamaki assured him. "Anything for you, _mon ami_." And in that moment, Kyouya had to believe him.

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After shutting the door behind him, Tamaki hung up his coat and removed his shoes as usual. Then, his eyes wandered with a matching frown over to where his best friend still lay – quite disjunct from the usual – in bed.

"Kyouya, they said you weren't in class today. Are you feeling sick?" he wondered, though fearing for the worst, as he stepped over to the edge of the bed. When Kyouya didn't turn his head in order to look at him, Tamaki knelt down at eye level instead and learned the reason for the lack of movement – or so he thought, given by the vacant glow of Kyouya's eyes. He bit his lower lip.

"In a way," Kyouya answered slowly and carefully, as if the whole truth was thought better left unspoken yet necessary to be not so.

"How?" Lifting a hand up, he drifted it closer and closer to the other's face until a reaction was finally offered. Kyouya reached for the appendage, grasping it in his with more force than expected.

"I can't"—His voice cracked, and so to could have Tamaki's heart.—"see your face." A moment of silence washed over them. Tamaki squeezed once before letting go. Just when Kyouya was about to question – _protest_ – he felt pressure on the mattress as another body slid under the covers next to his own.

"How's this?" Tamaki asked, their faces now only centimeters apart. Kyouya rolled his eyes, but nonetheless smiled at least halfway.

"Better." He paused. "Don't cry."

"How'd you know I was crying?" Tamaki laughed, moving to wipe away the tears with the back of his hand.

"Idiot, I can hear you sniffling." Kyouya caught the hand halfway there in order to bring it back to lay on his own cheek. "Let me." And so he did, capturing the blonde's face in his fingers, gently brushing away the drops with his thumbs.

"Right, I _am _an idiot. I don't even know what I'm feeling anymore." He had never been as unsure of himself as he was now; all he knew was that he didn't want this soft hand to leave his face; that he wanted Kyouya's smile to stay forever, for those dark eyes to keep on staring at him, even if quizzically as there were now. "All I know is that I want to spend forever with you. I don't ever want to leave your side. I want to be there for you when you're sad, because I know I'm the only one you're willing to let yourself go in front of. And I want to be strong enough to wipe your tears away, so you don't have to hold them back. I don't want to live without you – I _can't_ live without you, Kyouya."

Kyouya couldn't help but let a soft smile spread across his face. "You've always been better at articulating such things," he praised. His thumb brushed back the newest tear as Tamaki sniffled. "If spending forever with me will ensure your happiness, then I'll do anything to accomplish it."

"Would you really do that for me?"

"Of course. In fact, let's – after graduation. Let's take a plane to France. Let's reunite you with your mother. Would you like to live in Paris?"

Tamaki wanted to laugh at how uncharacteristically impulsive Kyouya was being. Grinning from ear to ear, he pulled his friend closer. "Yeah, I'd like that," he said, and Kyouya hugged him back.


	7. Chapter 7: Thanks for the Memories

**Chapter 7**

_Been looking forward to the future  
__But my eyesight is going bad  
__And this crystal ball is always cloudy  
__Except for when you look into the past  
_- "Thanks for the Memories," Fall Out Boy

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"Dad, I'm going to France," stated Tamaki, staring his father straight in the eye. Yuzuru blinked, but said nothing. "I'm going to start a private school with Jean-Pierre... maybe even a branch of Ouran if you'd let me. We're already working on the papers and getting the grant from the city." A long pause followed, but in the end Yuzuru let loose that proud smile he was holding back.

"You've grown a lot, my son," he said, and patted him on the shoulder. "The Suou Empire will gladly provide you with the funding you need to start off, given that you promise to pay it back."

Tamaki smiled, too. "Of course. Thank you, dad."

After a bite of his crab cake, Yuzuru asked, "Is Kyouya-kun going with you?" For a moment, Tamaki's mouth hung open in surprise at how his father had guessed so easily, but then again maybe it wasn't so hard.

"Yes, in about a month. Hikaru's going to take him when he goes to that fashion premier in Paris."

While Yuzuru was glad that his son and best friend were remaining together – they seemed to be a good for each other that could not be replaced – there were still a few problematic details that had to be worked out. "Does Yoshio-san know about this arrangement?" Tamaki shook his head. "I doubt he will approve of this."

"That's what Kyouya said. That's why he wasn't planning on ever telling his father." He sighed deeply and averted his eyes, but a moment later turned back with a look of intrigue. "Does Ootori-san know that Kyouya's going blind?" He was surprised at how much the words stung as they slid off his tongue, as if in affirmation of the truth – that his best friend really was loosing his precious eyesight.

Yuzuru frowned. "I would think so, but maybe Kyouya-kun ordered the doctors not to let him know..." After contemplating this for a moment, he thought it very Kyouya-like, and thus quite plausible. "Maybe not. Yoshio-san hasn't mentioned it. You think that would change things?"

"Kyouya said that his father wouldn't care one way or another if he was blind... because then Kyouya would be 'useless' to him." Again, the word stung more than he thought it would. It was hard to imagine having a father as cold as Yoshio, and for this not being the case Tamaki was grateful. But why did Kyouya have to suffer through it?

Yuzuru nodded. "Yes, I can see that. It's still hard to believe that Yoshio-san would give up on him so easily, though." Tamaki stared at his father, interested in how much the latter knew about Yoshio's feelings towards his third son. "For the longest time Yoshio-san was planning on naming Kyouya-kun the heir to one of the larger companies under their control. He may not show it, but I believe Yoshio-san is very proud of his son, and well aware of his abilities."

"But so many of his abilities rely on sight," Tamaki pointed out softly. "It's such a simple thing that we take for granted..."

"No one expects these kinds of things, Tamaki; just like I never expected your mother to become so ill."

"But she's better now, right?" Tamaki suddenly exclaimed, jumping from his seat. "You could come to France with me, too. We could all live together, as a family—"

"Tamaki." The tone told him that he'd better sit back down, and so he did. "You know how much I'd love for that to happen, but it can't. As your grandmother insists on reiterating, I have my duties here." As he sighed, his eyes softened their harsh gaze. "However, I do promise to visit as much as I can."

Gradually, Tamaki released the breath he had been holding. "Thank you."

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Haruhi stepped out of the bathroom at the same time Tamaki emerged from Kyouya's chambers, carrying a sleepy Héloïse.

"Good night, mom!" Tamaki called into the darkened room.

"G'night, _mama_!" echoed Héloïse.

When "Good night, dad; _Bonne nuit, Héloïse__,_" emerged therefrom, Haruhi let a genuine, soft smile spread across her lips. After Tamaki shut the door and began heading towards his own room, he noticed the other standing in the hallway. Once they said their own good-nights to each other, they departed into their own rooms for the night. Unfortunately, Haruhi soon discovered that finding sleep amongst the new environment and all the strange occurrences to be harder than anticipated. After staring up at the ceiling, submerged in her thoughts, for what seemed like at least an hour or two, she heard a soft tapping at the door.

"Who is it?"

"It's Kyouya. I'm going to make some tea. Care to join me?"

"Sure," she accepted the invitation, for the first time in honest desire and not simply with the mentality that he might threaten a cost if she did not. "I'll be down in a minute."

"I'll be in the kitchen."

Had she not been listening carefully, she could've easily missed the hint of a smile in his voice. Regardless, as his footsteps faded away, she clambered off the mattress and into an extra layer of covering via a robe hung on the bathroom door. Upon first sight of the still-darkened hallway, she couldn't help but be taken aback before it dawned on her that Kyouya would have no use for the light. If he even noticed when she flipped on the switch in the kitchen, he didn't show it. Instead, he remained occupied with carefully heating the kettle on the stove. The air sat stagnant and silent until both cups of steeping Chamomile were placed upon the island.

"Thank you," said Haruhi as she reached for her drink, as it had not been successfully positioned directly in front of her seat.

"There's sugar in the pantry above the stove," Kyouya offered.

"I'm all set, thanks." Blowing the steam off the top of the mug, she let her insecure gaze drop from his that somehow still managed to be intimidating in its own way. "How did you know I was still awake?"

"I couldn't sleep my first night here, either."

She allowed herself a short laugh. "That's hard to believe – you looked more relaxed than ever today. In fact, you seemed happier than I've ever seen you before." Her honest smile was matched with a split one from him, as if he wasn't quite sure whether or not to take the remark as a compliment. Then, her tone took a downturn. "Here I thought after law school, I'd be happy, too... but I'm still waiting for it to come to me."

He tried a smile, but it was a bitter one. "If there's one thing Tamaki has taught us, it's that happiness cannot be 'found.'"

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The following morning Haruhi woke up to two very loud voices calling,

"Milord!"

With an exasperated sigh reflective of her disinterest in getting up at the moment contrasted with the knowledge that they would soon barge into her lent room if she did not, she rolled out of bed. From the sound of Tamaki's rants – half of them excited, half scolding – traveling across the foyer, she assumed he could occupy their attention long enough for her to quickly wash up and subsequently change into attire more appropriate than the nightgown she was currently wearing. When at last she emerged from the room, Tamaki was in the midst of lecturing the twins on proper visiting hours. Given that he was fully dressed, he must've been already awake at the time of their entrance. From his tone, it was obvious that this was not the first time this lecture had been given – at least to Hikaru.

"I didn't think you two were planning on coming quite so early," added Haruhi, running a comb through her short hair with one hand. At the sound, two pairs of hazel eyes turned their gaze towards her figure on the landing.

"Well, we wanted the chance to say hi before our Lord here ran off to work," Hikaru answered for them, waving his hand carelessly in Tamaki's direction. Curiously enough, now that the twins were standing side-by-side, it occurred to Haruhi as she descended to the first floor how decidedly different their outfits were. While the older was wearing another outrageous conglomeration of clothing articles, the younger sported a simple dress shirt paired with jeans. Clutching Hikaru's pant leg, Héloïse stared nervously at the stranger. "Now that we're here, I wonder when our host"—pun clearly intended—"will have the consideration to offer us breakfast." He tossed a pointed glance at Tamaki, who appeared mildly offended.

"You know where the kitchen is," he returned, tone lightening when he turned to the other Hitachiin: "Would you like something too, Kaoru?"

"No, thanks," he replied, gaze flickering nervously. "Actually... I'd like to talk with Kyouya for a bit."

Taken aback by the request, Tamaki blinked. "First door up the stairs, but I wouldn't go in there yet if I were..." But Kaoru had already started up the staircase with suitcase in tow. Before he could be warned about the dangers of a sleep-deprived Kyouya – not that he hadn't already experienced them beforehand – he had opened the door and closed it behind him.

"What was that about?" Haruhi wondered aloud, only to receive shrugs in response. "Does he know that Kyouya's...?" She trailed off, not wanting to voice the word.

Hikaru averted his gaze, embarrassed. "...I couldn't tell him."

"Uncle Hika okay?" spoke up Héloïse, tugging at the fabric in her hands.

"I'm fine," he assured her, patting the top of her head. From the look on Tamaki's face, it was obvious that he, too, detected the blatant lie.


	8. Chapter 8: Kings of Medicine

**Q: **What is Kyoya doing with his life?  
**A: **...Good question. XD Well, before Héloïse was old enough to go to school, he would have taken care of her with the nanny. Maybe we should think of him as a stay-at-home mom.

**Q: **Being blind makes things difficult but Kyoya's mind is what makes him who he is.... Although being blind would put him at somewhat of a disadvantage he is smart enough to overcome it.  
**A: **I'll admit, perhaps I have made Kyouya up to be more at a loss than he should be. My only excuse – though it may be a significant one – is to point out how different the prospect of being dependent on others is for him than for most people. In fact, you practically answered the "question" yourself: "He would possibly need some one to read for him certain reports..." For his entire life, he hasn't needed much of anyone for much of anything. I think, in the anime/manga, that he's still coming to terms with depending on Tamaki for his friendship.

**Chapter 8**

_On the tip of my tongue were words that always came out wrong  
_- "Kings of Medicine," Placebo

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Hikaru managed to hold out a full 20 minutes before marching upstairs to check on the situation. Upon hearing voices coming from inside the room, he didn't bother to knock before opening the door – much against Tamaki's warnings – though neither occupant of the room glanced up when he did.

"...and here, the white wings, along with some pearl and yellow reflecting off the sun," Kaoru was saying. He sat across from Kyouya on the floor, holding the latter's hand in his own as he guided it across the described colors upon the canvas between them. After skipping over, Héloïse sat down on the side, inspecting the picture with wide, interested eyes. Hikaru and Haruhi stayed back, surprised both to see Kyouya allowing such contact from someone who wasn't Tamaki and to see the odd sort of smile that decorated his face.

"Oh, Kaoru, did you make that?" exclaimed Tamaki, kneeling down in front of the painting in order to examine it more closely. Kaoru replied affirmatively, nodding. "Wow, it's amazing! You must be famous."

Kaoru laughed, but had to blush at such a compliment. "Not quite. About the only thing I'm famous for is being good enough for Börje."

Kyouya scoffed, as if he knew Kaoru was overlooking his fame on purpose.

Hikaru frowned. His little brother shouldn't have to be "good enough" for anybody; he was perfect just the way he was.

Haruhi, of course, wondered about the terminology, but didn't want to pry.

Tamaki, as usual, skipped right over wondering and continued, "Is _he_ famous then?"

Traces of the Hitachiin smirk danced across Kaoru's lips as he nodded. "Let's just say that by the time he was our age, IKEA had already named a piece of furniture after him," he explained. He threw a sidelong glance at Hikaru, expecting him to join in the jocularity of the comment, but instead found a disapproving stare in his direction. "What?"

"You say that like he hasn't been our age for a long time," pointed out Hikaru. The younger twin bit his lip, fully aware as to the direction in which this was headed. And the older knew that minute response could only mean that his twin was reluctant to donate the sought answer. Luckily, before Hikaru could demand details, Kyouya interjected with,

"Say, Tamaki, what color would you call Kaoru's hair?"

Having been receiving these types of questions for a few years now, Tamaki was not surprised by the seemingly odd request. "Peach," he decided instantly. "Though there are some orange tints in there, too."

"That's not _peach_," Hikaru protested as if he knew better. "It's _blond_."

"_Strawberry_ blond," insisted Kaoru.

"Banana!" exclaimed Héloïse.

Haruhi rolled her eyes. "All this talk of fruits is making me hungry again," she interjected. When the younger girl echoed the notion, Haruhi took the child's hand in her own and carried her away to the kitchen. "Come, let's see if _dad _has any mangoes stored away." On her way out the door, she tossed Tamaki a look that dared him to comment on the nickname usage as his expression suggested he might. As soon as the girls disappeared behind the molding, said blonde placed a hand on Kyouya's shoulder, silently beckoning him to follow. As they both understood that the twins' interrupted conversation called for continuation, and as it was thereby better to do it sooner rather than later, Kyouya climbed to his feet and let Tamaki guide him out of the room.

Once they were securely out of earshot, the latter reverted to his habit of turning around to face the man to whom he was speaking.

"I take it this is your 'business associate' in Sweden," he said lightly, though getting straight to the point.

"Indeed," Kyouya affirmed.

Tamaki's triumphant grin turned sour at the follow-up question he had to ask. "So what was that time you suddenly ran off to see him all about?" The instant his best friend's lips pursed together, Tamaki regretted pressing the matter. Even though he knew the dark, cloudy, non-existent gaze in his direction couldn't really see him, he averted his eyes in shame. "I understand. It's not your place to say. I just hope," he added with a sigh, "that he'll be able to tell us... someday." All Kyouya could do was nod in agreement.

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Hikaru watched his twin brother hang a painted canvas on the wall of Kyouya's room and wondered what possible use a picture could be to a blind person.

"How old is he?" the overprotective brother voiced the question that had been begging to be released from the Shadow King's interruption.

Kaoru didn't look at him as he gave his slow-paced answer. "Thirty-one." As he expected – and feared – the silence that followed was deafening.

"Eight years, Kaoru," his twin calculated at the end of it. "He's _eight years _older than you."

"I know."

"That's too many."

Once he was confident the canvas wouldn't fall off the wall when released from his hands, Kaoru turned to look his brother straight in the eye from across the room. "Why? What makes it 'too many'? What are you afraid of, Hikaru?"

"I don't want you to get hurt."

A bitter smile crossed his face as his slow strides covered the distance in between the two of them. While keeping their gazes locked, Kaoru took the other's hands in his own and gave them an assuring squeeze. "I know," he spoke softly, "which is why it's okay that you don't trust him yet. But can you at least trust _me_ when I say _I_ trust him?"

Hikaru sighed. That puppy-eyed stare was having the same effect it always had. "He almost hurt you," he managed to point out regardless.

"_Almost_," his twin specified, hopeful gaze unwavering. "He never has, and never will."

"How can you be sure?"

"I told you, Hikaru, I trust him."

Hikaru inwardly flinched at his twin's unusually sharp tone. Pursing his lips, he turned away from the identically resolute gaze. He rightfully hated to say the next words that would come from his mouth. "I'm sorry, Kaoru. I can't." As his hands were left to slip from the once-tight grasp, he heard the disappointment in his younger brother's footsteps as he walked away.

"I understand," he said softly, the sheer truth of the statement rendering it all the more unintentionally acidic. The beeping of a cell phone and the familiarly unwanted Swedish that followed were barely audible to Hikaru beneath the beating of the heart in his chest. He never thought the sound of his twin's laughter could be so painful.

A few minutes later, Tamaki and Kyouya heard a knock at their door.

"Come in, Kaoru," the latter greeted.

"How did you know it was me?" the identified twin returned, surprised, as he opened the door.

"Hikaru knocks more forcefully, and Haruhi wouldn't dare at the risk of interrupting."

"Oh... Well, anyway, Börje wants to talk to you." When Kyouya held out his hand, Kaoru placed the open cell phone within it. He gestured to Tamaki to allow for privacy, and received a strange, knowing glance in return. Regardless, he was successfully followed down the stairs and into the kitchen to relocate the absent girls. They were soon found munching on pieces of cantaloupe at the island, the younger of the two with sticky, orange residue smeared all around her lips.

Meanwhile, Hikaru carefully listened to the overheard conversation beyond the door left open. Once the two pairs of footsteps had disappeared down the stairs, he gathered himself up and, as stealthily as possible, made his way towards the next room over. Much to Hikaru's good fortune, Kyouya continued his phone call as if he hadn't noticed the approaching eavesdropper. One hand grasped the door frame; the other lay clenched at the redhead's side.

"...sure of it. He's in good hands," the Ootori was saying. "Thank you. I will. What is it – _hej då_?" A confirmatory pause, followed by a nod. _"__Hej då.__" _After flipping the phone closed, he slid it into his shirt pocket. Hikaru waited for the next motion, but it would not come, indicating the potential for deep thought.

"When were you planning on telling me that you knew where he was?" he asked, breaking the silence. If he had ever seen Kyouya jump, it would have been then; perhaps the first time a Hitachiin had ever succeeded in sneaking up on an Ootori.

"When were you planning on telling me that you were standing there?" was returned with clear admonishment.

"In a very short time, comparatively." The bitterness was matched.

"It was his request, not my decision."

Momentarily biting back the oncoming protest, Hikaru closed the door behind him. "But you knew how desperate I was! How could you do that to me?"

"As I said, per his request that I keep it a secret."

"So I had to specifically request that you tell me everything you knew? Is that how it works? What about now? Tell me, Kyouya, everything you know about what's going on here."

"I can't – not without his permission."

"So his requests are more important than mine?"

The distasteful frown emerged. "That's not—"

"Yes, it is! Don't lie to me. I thought I could at least trust you to not choose between us."

"I would never—"

"You just _did_." Shocking Kyouya to a new degree, Hikaru lifted his hands to the other's shoulders and pushed – just enough force to knock him off balance, but not off his feet. With the hardening of his non-existent gaze, Kyouya reached through the air to grasp the offending appendages, tightening on Hikaru's wrists with enough force to bring forth a wince and an irritated growl.

"Listen, Hikaru," demanded the elder, "and maybe for once people will be willing to tell you things."

"What's the point in listening if it's all a lie?" the other yelled, wrenching his hands free. "You chose Kaoru before me – there's nothing more to be said."

Crossing his arms, Kyouya breathed an exasperated sigh. "Wouldn't you?"

"Of course, but I'm supposed to. Kaoru puts me ahead of himself as well. Other people are supposed to treat us equally. You of all people should know what it's like to be treated unfairly." The silent result made it clear that the relation was taken to heart. Turning on his heels, Hikaru violently yanked open the door.

"Hikaru—"—The twin spared a glance over his shoulder, but Kyouya had turned away.—"—I'm sorry."

Without a word, Hikaru slammed the door behind him.


	9. Chapter 9: Cold But I'm Still Here

**Chapter 9**

_(Cold) But I'm still here  
__(Blind) 'Cause I'm so blind  
__(Say never) We're far from comfortable this time  
_- "Cold (But I'm Still Here)," Evans Blue

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"Tamaki!"

A shiver ran up Haruhi's spine at the irritation evident in the demand, illogically hoping that the named one was still present so that he may have quelled the Ootori's wrath.

"He and Héloïse left already," Kaoru fortunately called back for them, minimally affected in comparison, "but Haruhi and I are in the kitchen." A few moments later, Kyouya himself appeared from behind the door frame with a not quite matching yet none too pleased expression. Instantly, Kaoru shot up from his seat and guided their friend to a free chair beside his own. "Would you like some cantaloupe?" he offered, placing several pieces on a separate plate and a fork in Kyouya's hand before an affirmative response was even given. With his free hand, Kyouya lifted the cell phone from his shirt pocket.

"Here," he indicated briefly, holding it out in front of him. As the Hitachiin took back the item from the other's loose grasp, he could practically feel Haruhi's curious gaze boring into the physical manifestation of the exchange. Silently she wondered why Kyouya would have his phone, along with why the other twin had not come down with him. Even if she had the audacity to question the matter, she was not allowed enough time in which to do so. "Did you get a chance to appropriately introduce yourself to Héloïse before she and Tamaki took off?" Kyouya continued, his tone at the last two words reflecting irritation at the blonde's quick departure.

"Yes, I did." Suddenly, his entire frame sank, downtrodden. "Even _she_ thinks I look like Hikaru." He stirred the pieces of cantaloupe around on his plate aimlessly. "And Börje... Hikaru looked enough like me for him to recognize him."

"Of course. Börje has known you long enough to be surprised to see that face on anyone else." Unfortunately, the attempt provided little, apparent solace.

"You don't have to look _nothing_ like Hikaru to be different than he is," added Haruhi frankly.

"Thanks," Kaoru replied, attempting a smile, "but you could tell us apart even when we looked exactly alike."

She stared long and hard at the younger twin, reflecting on her own thoughts as she voiced them. "You've changed more than just your appearance."

"You think so...?" Even though his laugh was terse and indifferent, he took her words to heart. Before the topic could be further investigated, the sudden ringing of a phone interrupted the scene. Identifying the cause as his own, Kyouya lifted another cell phone from the pocket of his jeans and flipped it open with a curt greeting. Once he began his conversation, the other two felt it polite to avert their full attention to their fruity breakfast. Sufficiently distracted, they were all the more startled when Kyouya abruptly spoke of one of them to the caller on the other end of the line:

"Yes, Haruhi's right here."

Blinking, it took her a moment to recognize the object shoved in front of her face as the cell phone on which he had been speaking. With a brow twisted in confusion not helped by the man's smirk, she gingerly accepted the gift. "Hello...?" However, she had no need to further her inquiry, for the very familiar, bubbly voice made it clear.

"Haruhi-chan! How dare you neglect to tell your own father that you were going to France, especially when you're staying with that rascal, Suou-kun! At least Kyouya-kun will be there to protect you."

"Sorry, dad, but it was kind of last-minute," she explained, rolling her eyes. At least she knew now how Hikaru might have gotten wind of her phone number.

Eventually, Kaoru managed to convince Hikaru to come downstairs and join them in the living room, though the older insisted on keeping up his sour countenance. Without Tamaki's cheer invading their personal spaces, the air remained stagnant to a level of slight discomfort, but Haruhi didn't dare poke a hole in the surface at the risk of letting tension seep through. Fortunately for the nanny, she was not pressured to deal with the matter as she had been given the day off due to the surplus of people at the house that day to care for whoever needed it.

As Haruhi shared a game of chess with Kyouya – a surprisingly strong competitor, considering his burden of having to memorize all her past moves in addition to predicting those yet to come – the twins exchanged portfolios of photographs; Hikaru's of clothing, Kaoru's of paintings. Out of consideration, they too sat at the coffee table so that Haruhi could easily glance over and observe their works as well. Thanks to Kaoru's oral descriptions, Kyouya, too, could receive a sense of their craftsmanship.

For once, the rising lawyer didn't experience a strong urge to relinquish this time with her companions and work on her case. Time had always passed quickly and easily at the Host Club. Regardless of how a few of the members were currently missing and there were no longer with the confines of the Third Music Room, the standard still held. It wasn't long before Haruhi was summoned upon to do as Kyouya had requested of her earlier that day.

"Oh, Kyouya-senpai, it's almost four-thirty," she announced after glancing at the clock above the credenza.

"Thank you, Haruhi," he replied. "Hikaru"—The redhead instantly tensed at the other's still edgy tone; Kaoru glanced anxiously from one to the other.—"would you be willing to accompany me to the Center?"

Relieved at the ordinary request, Hikaru visibly relaxed. "To pick up the Lord? Sure," he answered, standing. "Do you want to come too, Kaoru?"

"No, thanks," the younger twin answered, shaking his head. "Maybe some other time." With a shrug, Hikaru easily accepted the answer, heading for the door with Kyouya. On his way out, his gaze caught on an object on the shelf by the door.

"Do you want your glasses?"

Kyouya pursed his lips for a moment before answering. "I suppose," he granted, though with reservation. Haruhi remained bewildered as to why he might need them until Hikaru handed over the pair of dark sunglasses from on the shelf.

"We'll be back in about an hour," he called back into the living room, waving cheerfully enough at the two remaining individuals. Once he had received matching, congenial gestures in return, he left with Kyouya stepping close behind, sliding on the pair of glasses. As soon as the door closed behind them, Kaoru launched himself from his seat and into the bench of the bay window at the front of the house. Allowing herself to be curious as to the importance of a scene perhaps observed from a hidden location, Haruhi came over as well to take a seat beside him. Just in time, too, for at that moment Kyouya was sliding his hand into Hikaru's as they walked away down the stone pathway, though it might have been purely out of need for direction. Judging by the soft look that subsequently blanketed Kaoru's face, this was exactly what he had been hoping to see.

"They've grown a lot closer, haven't they?" mused Haruhi, watching through the window pane as Hikaru's shoulders settled in comfort. As little as she knew regarding their strife, his and Kyouya's altercation that morning had affected the Shadow King far more than he would have liked to admit. At least the fire brewing between the two seemed to have started fading, perhaps for lack of continued fodder.

"We all have," replied Kaoru reflectively. "I'm glad Hikaru's learned to reach out to someone else."

"And you," she added, bringing his hazel eyes to meet her brown ones in interest. "I'm willing to bet that your friendship with Börje wasn't anywhere near instantaneous."

Grinning sheepishly, he couldn't help but agree to that. "You're right – it took a lot of getting used to. But it was more like he reached out to me, so I still feel as if I haven't quite accomplished the same thing as Hikaru." Leaning back to rest his head on the wall, he chuckled in dry amusement. "And yet here I am, the one who pushed us into all this in the first place..."

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As soon as Kyouya and Hikaru stepped onto the school grounds, a shout of "_Mama_! Uncle Hika!" rang throughout the courtyard. Moments later, they each found one of their legs clamped in a grip surprisingly strong for a preschooler. After the typical greetings to which she might not have bothered paying attention, Hikaru managed to pry the girl off their legs so that he could lift her into his arms. Knowing that whatever reason had been strong enough to convince Kyouya to come all this way just to see Tamaki in private before he returned to the house was better left discussed in a company void of Héloïse and her probable interruptions, Hikaru assumed he could and should tend to her for the time being. With one hand, he held her at his hip; with the other, he claimed Kyouya's once more in order to guide the other into the Center's main, brick building.

"_Bonjour_, Kyouya, Hikaru," greeted the man at the front desk. "René's in his office." He gestured towards the door at the back. Nodding once, Kyouya headed in that direction, thankful for his excellent memory – now grown in its spatial repertoire – that permitted him minimum use of Hikaru's guiding hand at this point. As he closed the door behind him, Hikaru turned to the other man in the room.

"Say, Jean-Pierre... You're married, right?" he asked gingerly.

Although his brow scrunched at the random inquiry, he nodded with confidence. "Yes, I am."

Inhaling a deep breath, Hikaru prepared himself to voice his curious yet critical question. "How did you propose?"


	10. Chapter 10: Leonids

**Chapter 10**

_You woke me up on account of the stars  
__Climbed out on the roof for a while  
__Laid side-by-side in that beautiful dark  
__And I almost forgot the pins in my heart  
_- "Leonids," Meg Hutchinson

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As soon as Kyouya stepped into the room, Tamaki glanced up from his desk in concern. "Kyouya! Whatever brings you here?" he exclaimed, instantly halting in his current task. "Is something wrong?"

"In a way," Kyouya began, stepping closer by the sound of the melodramatic voice. Before he was even halfway across the floor, Tamaki had gathered himself up to meet him there, squeezing the other's hands once to tell him to stop before reaching up to remove the sunglasses from his face. "You didn't say good-bye before you left this morning."

Breathing a deep sigh, Tamaki recognized his fault not for the first time that day. "I know; I'm terribly sorry, but I wasn't sure how long you and Hikaru were going to be in there, and I didn't want to interrupt your conversation." Considering the true content of the mentioned exchange, Kyouya resisted the urge to scoff at the mild word choice.

"Next time, please do."

"I will, I promise. Will you ever forgive me?"

He couldn't stay angry at that desperation even if he wanted to. Repressing a reassuring smile for the sake of maintaining his conviction, he replied, "Spend some time with me tonight, then we'll see."

When the two of them retreated to the privacy of the upper floor for an hour or so after dinner, no one dared interrupt them.

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"I have a surprise for you."

Given that this was his first night in their new home – the word felt strange and undeserving – on the outskirts of Paris, and thus everything he had seen so far could be counted as unexpected, Kyouya raised an eyebrow at Tamaki's proclamation. Still, the skeptical Shadow King let his friend guide him up one flight of stairs to another, hidden at the back of the hall. As soon as Tamaki opened the door, cool, night air hit them in a wave of freshness, playing with their bangs and sending shivers up their spines. One after the other, they stepped out onto the roof deck; Tamaki glowing in pride, Kyouya trying his best to obtain the best picture he could of his surroundings given the blur in his vision that was not helped by the inadequate lighting. Unfortunately, the only, visual results he managed to gain were sets of flashing lights, though the short clips of French and revving engines floating up from streets below made it clear the city stretched out before them.

"As refreshing as the air might be," he began, letting his annoyance seep into his tone, "I cannot help but wonder why you've brought me out here to admire a view I cannot see."

"Don't worry; you'll get to see it," answered Tamaki cryptically, taking the other's hand and half-dragging him forward towards the center of the deck. A moment later, Kyouya followed his lead in taking a seat on the concrete, regardless of how the mystery behind the point of the excursion was so far left unclear. For the longest time neither of them broke the placid silence, letting the evening zephyr drift calmly over them. Just when Kyouya was about to prompt a continuance, Tamaki's voice cut through the air.

"Close your eyes," he ordered gently, to which Kyouya furrowed his brow.

"I'd rather not," he replied, definitive yet insecure at how the action would lock out any remaining hold he had onto this visual world.

"Please, Kyouya. You can trust me, can't you?" With a resigned sigh, Kyouya capitulated to his friend's pleading, reluctantly shutting himself in the complete, frightening darkness behind his eyelids. As soon as Tamaki could be sure they would not soon open again, he began speaking in that melodious manner reserved for such moments, a self-satisfied smile decorating his features. "The sky is a blanket of a violet so dark and tinged with navy. The shimmering stars clash against their backdrop, punctuating it like fireflies. Far beyond yet with a presence so prominent one might like to reach out and touch it, _La Tour Eiffel _pulls one into the depths of the beauty of her architecture..."

And so he went on and on, using such poetic imagery that enabled a full picture of the scene to come together in Kyouya's mind. Tamaki admired it with his words in such a way that his dark-haired companion could envision the scene more majestically than he ever could have if he had actually seen it himself. Suddenly, it was as if nothing else existed in the world besides the two of them and the vast, night sky.

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There was a somewhat familiar knock at the door.

"Come in," Kyouya called, and the door was opened. So far he could only tell that the nervous footsteps didn't belong to Tamaki, but that conclusion had already been gathered by how said blonde was sleeping soundly in the bed behind him.

"Hey, Kyouya, do you have a balcony in this place?" the voice of the visitor asked, revealing them as the not-so-unexpected younger of the twins.

"We have something even better," Kyouya answered with an air of pride as he stood from the lounge chair. "You _are _wearing a sweater of some sort, correct?"

"Of course," Kaoru huffed indignantly, pulling the edges of said garment more tightly around himself. He was about to suggest that the other put on one as well when Kyouya removed a light overcoat from the closet. Kaoru carefully stepped out of the way as the other passed while simultaneously sliding his arms into the sleeves.

"This way." With one hand trailing along the railing, Kyouya ironically guided the other down the hallway and up a flight of stairs to a small, enclosed room. After fumbling around for the handle, Kyouya pushed open the only door. Kaoru gasped as he stepped out onto the rooftop deck.

"Wow," he breathed, staring in wonderment as Paris splayed herself out in front of him. At the edge of the horizon, the Eiffel Tower shot up from amongst city streets and shorter buildings in reminiscence of Tokyo Tower – its Japanese counterpart. "It's beautiful..."

"So I've been told."

Kaoru bit his lip at the inconsiderate slip of the tongue. "S-sorry..."

Kyouya waved off the apology with a shake of the head, though a bitter smile accompanied it. "No need. Tamaki has offered plenty of elaborate, oral descriptions."

"I can picture that." When the image of Tamaki prancing across the rooftop, spewing illustrative details about the scenery entered his mind, Kaoru couldn't help but laugh. "I'm sure he paints a wonderful image."

"I'm sure you could as well."

Kaoru felt his cheeks color at the compliment, especially considering from whom it came and how that person had no visual experience on which to base his conclusion. "Thanks, Kyouya," he spoke quietly. When the other offered no noticeable response, Kaoru drifted over to the railing with Kyouya following his footsteps. For a while he simply soaked in the cool, Parisian night air and gazed at the lights flickering atop skyscrapers as the sounds of cars and pedestrians beyond and below flooded into their ears. When the ice was broken at last, it was not by speech as more logically envisioned, but by touch. Kaoru gaped at the fingers curled across the railing around his own. Careful as to not dissuade the owner, he lifted his hand in order to entwine the pair. Instantly, he could feel the other relax as they shared small, bittersweet smiles.

"Hikaru thinks you found me," Kaoru spoke up, far more casual than he had intended.

"He has no reason to think otherwise," Kyouya replied smoothly, having anticipated the detail's eventual entrance.

"He would if you had told him the truth."

"Now, why would I have done that?" The classic, manipulative smirk had emerged. Although Kaoru ultimately wanted to roll his eyes, the depth of the conflict prevented such a nonchalant motion from surfacing.

"Right, because then I would have to explain why I called you in the first place. That's awful considerate of you, Kyouya, especially considering how you want me to tell him anyway."

"On your own time."

"I know. Thanks." In contrast, his tone spoke of melancholy as his hand stiffened around the other's. "But I can't let this hinder your friendship with him – not after you two have become so close."

"He'll get over it, just as you would have eventually forgiven me. Worst case scenario, if there's one thing I've always known, it's that nothing comes without sacrifice," he finished philosophically, slowly lifting a hand up to ever so slightly brush across his eyes before clenching into a fist. A moment later, he found himself engulfed in a tight, unexpected yet wholly welcomed embrace.

"We love you; you know that, right?" Kaoru spoke into his jacket, the sound muffled yet the sentiment crystal clear.

"Yes, I know that now... and so should you." The motions that followed indicated a nod. "Then I need you to make me a promise – one that if broken, will never be forgiven." Again, the motions followed, yet slower this time. "Promise that, if Hikaru finds out and asks if there's anything he can do to help, which you know he will, you will answer truthfully." When silence and stiffening came after, Kyouya pulled closer, half-unintentionally breathing in his ear, "Kaoru, you have to let him know."

"...I promise," at last the other choked out. "You're right – he at least deserves that."

"No, you _both _deserve it." Even if Kyouya could have seen the disbelief on Kaoru's face, he would have smiled anyway.


	11. Chapter 11: How to Save a Life

**Chapter 11**

_Between the lines of fear and blame  
__You begin to wonder why you came  
__Where did I go wrong?  
__I lost a friend somewhere along in the bitterness  
__And I would have stayed up with you all night  
__Had I known how to save a life  
_- "How to Save a Life," The Fray

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Kyouya flipped open his phone and put it to his ear. "Ootori Kyouya."

"Hey, senpai."

Had he not been so solid, he would have nearly fallen out of his chair. Lately he hadn't been so sure of himself, but the voice on the other end of the line was even harder to believe than normal. "...Kaoru?"

There was a laugh, shallow and repressed. "Didn't expect to hear from me again, did you?" Without waiting for the obvious answer to the rhetorical question, he continued. "Me neither. But I felt that you should know that I'm still alive, so that when I die you'll know when it happened."

He furrowed his brows. "Are you planning on it happening soon?" He could almost feel Kaoru smiling ironically to himself.

"With cancer, you never know." Biting his lip, he waited patiently for the eventual, detached response.

"What kind?"

"Kidney."

"Both of them?"

"Yeah."

"Has it metastasized?"

"Not yet."

"Then—"

"Don't say it. You know I could never do that to him. Cancer's genetic."

"Not entirely."

"I'm on the donor list," Kaoru insisted without denying the other's point.

Knowing it was useless to repeat it, Kyouya exhaled a long breath. "Still... Just know that I don't approve."

"I didn't think you would. On the other hand, I'd expect that you would understand my reasons, as stupid as you might think they are."

It was a long time before he responded again, scrolling meaninglessly through his latest paper on German history. "In that case, I wish you the best with the treatment as it stands. What are they using?"

"Aldesleukin immunotherapy. The doctors say it has a history of being pretty successful, especially in patients like me who don't have other health problems. It makes me tired a lot of the time, though, and I'm supposed to stay relaxed and away from 'sudden stimulation.'"

"I'd have to agree. Stress would only worsen your condition." He could practically hear Kaoru wrinkle his nose in irritation.

"I know, but it's _boring_, and it's hard keeping up with class when Börje doesn't let me go if I'm feeling even the least bit sick."

Kyouya had to laugh a little at this; Kaoru seemed to simply attract overprotective companions. "Where are you going to school?" he asked, inferring the nature of this new Börje character from the context.

"Konstfack." He didn't need to list the entire name; Kyouya recognized it as possibly the most prestigious art school in all of Scandinavia. At the same time, he couldn't help but feel relief that Kaoru was willing to reveal – if implicitly so – his current location. "What about you? You'd be in your senior year now, right, Kyouya-senpai?" Kaoru continued before the other end of the line could, realizing that for the first time in the entire conversation he had been the one to pose the query.

"Of course. University of Tokyo. Tamaki's here as well."

"That's good. I'm glad you two are still together." A sound like a door sliding open interrupted his end before Kyouya could comment on the word choice. Kaoru said something in a language that the Ootori did not understand but could only assume to be Swedish before returning with, "Sorry, I have to go."

"Oh? Is Börje there?"

"Yeah. You might be able to talk to him sometime, actually – like most Swedes, he speaks English," he added off-handedly.

"That might be helpful. Am I correct in assuming that the entirety of this conversation is to be kept secret?"

"Yeah." The regretful tone, while indicating that Kaoru realized the implications of his decisions, did nothing for the mood. "Would it be all right if I called you again later?"

"I would recommend it, in fact." They said their "talk-to-you-later"s and hung up the phones. It was only then that Kyouya glanced at the clock and it occurred to him why Kaoru's friend had taken him away – it was only 9:16 AM, and Stockholm was eight hours behind Japan.

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Hikaru was once again left to grope aimlessly at the sheets in search of the figure of his brother that should have been lying next to him. Even half-asleep, his eyes narrowed in irritation as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. After turning on the beside lamp, he gave them a minute to adjust to the change in lighting. A cursory glance around the room confirmed Kaoru's absence. Sliding over to the foot of the bed, he had resigned himself to waiting as patiently as he could for the other's return when, out of the corner of his eye, a flash of plastic buried in Kaoru's open suitcase caught his attention. With a cautious glance at the door as if it could open at any moment, Hikaru reached over and pulled the culprit from beneath its blanket of folded clothes.

A moment later, his brow twisted at the two prescription bottles in his grasp. Then, having not recognized the names of the drugs contained within, he quickly whipped out a laptop from his own bag and booted it up. As soon as he was technologically able, Hikaru performed a Internet search for the mysterious items in question.

The first was ultimately confusing, if not particularly worrisome. Usually one heard of medicine being prescribed for _high _blood pressure, not _low_, but – as Hikaru thought – perhaps the climate in Stockholm to which they were not acclimated might play a role in rendering such intervention necessary.

The second, however, brought Hikaru's knuckles to turn white, clamped around the bottle and the edge of his computer. Again and again the word _antidepressant _floated off the web page. Over and over half of his mind tried desperately to assure himself that Kaoru _couldn't _be depressed – had no reason to be, did not appear to be – while the other half incessantly reminded himself of his mother's own suggestion of the same of him and his own vehement denial thereof.

Approaching footsteps halted any further, immediate contemplation on the subject, forcing Hikaru to quickly shove the items he had removed back into their respective places and adopt the best pitiful pose he could manage. When Kaoru opened the door, he was greeted with the sullen face of his twin as he perched on the edge of the bed.

"Oh, did I wake you?" the younger asked innocently. "I'm sorry, Hikaru – I didn't mean to."

"Then don't leave," the older returned. When Kaoru didn't reply, he concluded it must've come out icier than he meant it to. "Where did you go this time?"

"Just up to the roof deck with Kyouya." After sliding off his sweater, he shoved it back in his suitcase and closed the lid. Fortunately for Hikaru, he appeared not to have noticed anything awry. Climbing back into bed, he gently dragged a reluctant Hikaru along with him under the covers. "Nothing's wrong. I just needed some fresh air."

"And you needed to go with Kyouya?"

Kaoru shrugged. "He was still awake. I didn't want to wake you."

"Well, I'll wake up anyway if you're not there, so next time wake me up first."

"All right." Once he brought forth the small smile Hikaru had been hoping for, its image became reflected in the mirror as well. On the other hand, the two did not drift simultaneously off to sleep. Instead, Hikaru waited until Kaoru's eyes closed and his breathing steadied before gently, cautiously pushing back the sleeves of his twin's pajama top. With one glance at the smooth skin, pale yet unmarred by horizontal scars, he breathed a sigh of great relief. Once again the smile returned to his face as he pulled back the cloth. Now, he could sleep peacefully.

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"Are you cold?" was the first question Kyouya asked him the next time he called before the other could even get a word in.

Kaoru laughed and replied, "Of course not – it's the middle of the day, now. In fact, it's a very nice day out. Stockholm's a beautiful place in the summer; you should come see it some time."

"I wish I could."

"Eh? Has our lord become _that _possessive so that he won't even let you out of the house?" Most of him wanted to convince himself that Kyouya had to be joking, but there was something else in that tone... something regretful.

He chuckled wryly. "It's gotten to the point where _I_ hardly ever let myself out of the house."

Kaoru froze at this point. Okay, there _had _to be something wrong. "What do you mean by that?"

A brief pause seemed to take forever. "I'm going blind." And yet the tone was matter-of-fact as usual. The line went silent for quite a while, and even then choking sobs came before more voices.

"I-I'm sorry, Kyouya-senpai... Why didn't you mention it earlier?"

He would've smiled comfortingly if he could. "I'll manage. Besides, you should be taking care of yourself right now, not worrying about others."

"H-How?"

"How are you to take care of yourself, or how I am going blind?"

"Both."

"A rare case of retinitis pigmentosa, for the latter. However"—He chuckled dryly.—"I can't answer the first question myself."

"I'm sure the Lord does the best that he can, whether or not he's always helpful."

"Indeed, but I can't rely on him forever."

At first, Kaoru's mouth opened and closed with no words emerging therefrom, concerned for the plausible implications of the other's statement. After a moment, he tried once more to placate the issue. "I know you don't want to, but I'm sure he doesn't mind," he would offer over and over again. Unfortunately, their debates only got deeper from there on out.


	12. Chapter 12: Until the Day I Die

(I have to warn you – this chapter's incredibly angsty.)

**Chapter 12**

_As years go by I race the clock with you  
__But if you die right now, know that I die too  
__I die too  
__You remind me of the times when I knew who I was  
__But still the second hand will catch us like it always does  
_- "Until the Day I Die," Story of the Year

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"Maybe," Kyouya spoke up during one particularly difficult, regretful phone call after he had arrived in France, "it would easier for him if I weren't around."

"Kyouya—"

"Then I wouldn't be a burden on him anymore."

"You're not a burden to anyone!"

"I can't make him take care of me forever."

"This is the Lord we're talking about – he loves taking care of others."

"I have no right to impede on his life like this. I should just—"

"I'll die if you kill yourself, I swear!" Kaoru's voice screamed in his ear, but before Kyouya could find the right words with which to reply to such a statement, the line went dead. The phone slipped out of his hands as tear droplets gathered at the corners of his ailing eyes. He was left to ponder the validity of the Hitachiin's rash threat for three agonizing days until he received another call, but Börje's choking voice on the other end of the line did nothing to quell his fears.

"He's in critical condition."

Kyouya swallowed. "I'll be right there." After grabbing his emergency briefcase and a jacket, he tried to stop himself from rushing down the stairs. On his way past the living room, he notified Tamaki, "I have an emergency meeting with a business associate in Sweden. I should be back in a few days," while keeping his voice as calm as he possibly could given the circumstances. All Tamaki could do was blink dumbly at the sudden news as his best friend turned towards the door.

"Oh... okay..." he stumbled before the weight of the words sunk in. "Are you sure you'll be okay?" he called as Kyouya's figure disappeared behind the doorframe.

"I'll be fine." _You'd better be as well, Kaoru_.

After a flight that seemed far too long for the few hours for which it had been marketed, Kyouya arrived in Stockholm and immediately headed via taxi for the hospital that Börje indicated on the phone. Silence echoing in his ears – but maybe that was just a compensatory side-effect of his degrading other sense – he followed the receptionist's directions to the ICU.

Given his family, training, and college major, he knew much of the hospital environment and medical equipment. Yet, every time they had been presented themselves previously, the person subject to their monitoring was but that – a person. It never occurred to him how powerful seeing a particular someone he knew quite well hooked up to the machines could be.

The man presumed to be Börje glanced up from his bedside vigil as the stranger walked in. "He's doing better," he said, but the oxygen mask and dried tears spoke otherwise. The briefcase slipping from his fingers, Kyouya barely made his way over before sinking in the opposite chair. One hand interdigitated with Kaoru's while the other sifted through dyed, auburn hair.

"Don't die on us, idiot," fell from his parched lips. Suddenly, nothing seemed important in the world besides the young man lying before him.

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It was still disconcerting how no amount of vigorous blinking and rubbing at his eyes whenever he opened them could remove the blurriness that infected his vision.

"Ah, look who finally woke up."

He scowled at Kaoru's far too cheerful grin, but the younger man just turned back to his game of checkers with Börje, leaving the older time to fully wake.

"I could say the same of you," retorted Kyouya once the patient silence had passed. The more appropriate frown made its appearance.

"I'll continue to wake up if you do," Kaoru whispered, sliding one of his pieces across the board.

He couldn't help but smirk, even in his half-asleep state. "Is that a promise or a threat?"

"This one's a promise. Agreed?" He stuck out his pinky finger in anticipation. Although Kyouya rolled his eyes at the childish gesture, he nevertheless accepted it, offering his own finger for a pinky promise. "Good. Now, do you want to take over this game of checkers? I need to lie down."

"Sure, I suppose," Kyouya conceded, moving the board to where he could procure a better view. As the Hitachiin collapsed onto the pillows at the head of the bed, both of his companions inquired into his well-being, though in different languages.

Kaoru laughed at the simultaneous query. "Yeah, I'm fine. The medicine is just making me tired." Once his eyes drifted shut, the other two allowed themselves to turn their immediate attention to the game board.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person," Kyouya offered first, extending a hand in greeting. "Kyouya Grantaine."

"_Börje Skjöldebrand_," replied the Swedish man as he returned the gesture. "Pleasure to finally meet you as well."

"Wait, _what_!?" Kaoru's shocked voice cut in as he sat up again far too quickly, as evidenced by the hand that immediately went to his forehead to steady himself. Shooting his stunned gaze in Kyouya's direction, he continued, "Did you just say 'Grantaine'? Isn't that the Lord's real – er, _other_ – last name?"

"Indeed," Kyouya answered simply, unperturbed by the outburst. "And?"

"When did _that _happen?"

"Given the options, it seemed only logical as a method of obtaining permanent residency. Besides, I'm no longer quite an Ootori, am I?" After a long, contemplative stare, Kaoru at last conceded a nod.

"I guess not..."

"Go back to sleep, Kaoru." Placing a hand softly on his friend's shoulder, Kyouya gently guided him back into a lying position.

"Yes, mother," mocked Kaoru, grinning as his eyes closed once more. After playfully swapping him on the shoulder, Kyouya returned to his chair.

"Whose turn is it?"

"Yours," answered Börje. "Should I ask what that was all about?"

"It's but a trivial matter," replied Kyouya, shrugging it off casually.

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At the sudden creaking of the front door after days of silence, Tamaki's fingers slipped from their intended keys, forcing unpleasant, dissonant notes to resonate throughout the living room. The pianist himself glanced up in concerned relief at his friend's return. "Kyouya...?" He was met with a sigh as said individual stepped into view. "I'm at the piano." Slowly, footsteps brought the young man over to his destination. Then, in one foul swoop, he practically fell into the other's welcome with outstretched arms.

"I must apologize for all the trouble I've caused, having you worry unnecessarily about me."

Taken aback by the concession, Tamaki's lips parted silently once before he spoke. "What did I say about it being 'unnecessary'?" They both realized further argument would be useless, and so Kyouya did not respond to the rhetorical question.

"But there's something else I need you to bear..."

"Anything." Twisting his brow, Tamaki attempted an assuring smile as the other pulled back from the awkward embrace. One sleeve at a time, Kyouya first removed his jacket, then rolled up the sleeves of the shirt beneath. After briefly meeting Kyouya's solid gaze – though he was the only one who could detect the desperation therein – Tamaki's own drifted towards the now-bare arms that now lay exposed in front of him. Cerulean eyes widened at the sight of dark red lines marring the pale skin. With one hand, Tamaki lifted and held one of Kyouya's in his own; with the other, he traced the deep cuts that ran along the wrist – some scarred over, others still in the process of healing. With a gulp, he swallowed down what felt like the entire weight of his heart.

"How long has this been going on?" he tried to ask, but his voice broke halfway through the question.

"Far too long."

"Kyouya..."

"...Almost a year."

One hand floated up to press itself against Kyouya's cheek; the other stayed to grasp his fingers. "Have you... thought of... doing something worse?" The nod that followed was so brief that if they had not been in physical contact, it might not have been perceived. Kyouya was not surprised to find that the admittance hurt less than the obscured sight of tears it brought about. Even if he could not see the distress in Tamaki's features perfectly, to know that it was there was enough.

After lifting his hand but a few inches from Kyouya's cheek, Tamaki returned them quicker and harder in a light slap. He only caught a glimpse of the surprise in the other's reaction before pulling Kyouya into his arms once more.

"You can't call me an idiot anymore," he determined in a mixture of fear, sadness, and anger, "not after this. This is the stupidest thing that any of us have ever done."

He resisted the rash urge to argue Kaoru's recent, major decision as far more irrational. "I know; I'm sorry." Clutching at the fabric of Tamaki's shirt, Kyouya let the tears fall painfully uninhibited from his clouded eyes. "I thought I could handle it."

"I'm sorry, too. I thought... I could save you."

"Believe me, without you I wouldn't have made it nearly this far."


	13. Chapter 13: Miss You When You're Gone

(Darn it... this one's overdramatic, too...)

**Chapter 13**

_I should've asked, you should've told  
__Given up – I held on  
__Let it flow, but now it's out of control  
__I should've stayed, I should've gone  
__I don't know who's right or wrong  
__It's all colliding inside of my soul  
__And I miss you when you're gone_

_And it's all a mess, but don't get me wrong  
_'_Cause I might be better off this way  
__Any time will be okay  
__I just wanted you to know  
_- "Miss You When You're Gone," Gaute Ormåsen

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The following morning Haruhi was interrupted in her washing up by a boisterous call:

"_Bonjour, mes amis__! _I brought _madeleines_ and Antoinette, but do try to keep them away from each other."

If her brow could have scrunched and her eyes widen simultaneously, they would have, for although Haruhi did not automatically recognize the woman's voice, she had a strong inkling as to the owner. Upon emerging from her room after getting dressed, she could only assume she was right by the glorious gestures of welcome – complete with the classic French kisses-on-cheeks – seen between the blonde and her presumed son. To Haruhi's surprise, the twins welcomed similar gestures from her as well, if Hikaru with significantly more comfort. As Kyouya was nowhere to be seen, she assumed he was still fast asleep – or at least attempting to regain such a state after the loud interruption from the first floor.

"Haruhi, come down here!" called Tamaki, waving up the stairs in excitement. "There's someone I'd like you to meet." Regardless of how she already knew what he was going to say, Haruhi nevertheless patiently waiting for him to perform the introductions upon descending the stairs. "Haruhi, this is my mother, Anne Sophie Grantaine. _Maman_, this is my good friend Fujioka Haruhi." Absently wondering how she earned such a title, Haruhi struggled to avoid getting knocked over by the golden retriever running around at their feet as she bowed politely to the middle-aged woman standing before them.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Grantaine-san," she said, "after what Tamaki has told us about you."

"I could say the same of you, about whom my Tamaki has talked endlessly," replied Anne Sophie warmly, "but there's no need to be so formal! Please, call me Anne Sophie." Along the same lines, she outstretched her arms in a gesture of acceptance. Fortunately for Haruhi, although she wasn't quite sure whether to expect a simple, friendly hug or the whole shebang as the others had received, the older woman instigated the necessary movement herself, placing a brief yet cordial kiss on her cheek. In comparison to the cold, aloof reception to which Haruhi had often been subjected during her time at Ouran, the appreciation she had for such a warm welcome was enough to far outweigh its awkwardness.

"I was thinking we'd sit around and chat for a while, maybe have some coffee and _madeleines_," Anne Sophie continued, wandering into the living room. "Then, after Kyouya and Héloïse wake up, we can go for lunch in the city – maybe 58 Tour Eiffel, or even Le Jules Verne... I wonder if they have any openings for reservations today..." Pausing in her tracks, she lifted a hand to her lips in musing for a moment before turning to her son. "You said you have the day off, didn't you, Tamaki?"

"Yes, indeed; I took it off so I might have the pleasure of spending the entirety of it with you," Tamaki replied with unnecessary elaboration. The bystanders raised an eyebrow at how eerily similar the two blondes' smiles were. "Héloïse can miss a day of school, too." Suddenly, he froze as if a very important thought just occurred to him, desperate concern striking his features. Grasping his mother's skirt, he fell to his knees at her feet. "Can't she? That's not horrible parenting, is it!?" Taking his pleading in stride, Anne Sophie gently guided him back to his feet with words of assuagement regarding his parenting skills.

It was obvious from the start that Yuzuru wasn't the only parent after whom Tamaki had taken.

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After everyone said their good-byes to Anne Sophie at the end of the day, together, the twins headed towards the stairs.

"Don't get up and leave in the middle of the night this time, Kaoru," ordered Hikaru, though pitiful outweighed stern in his tone. "I'm sick of waking up and not seeing you next to me."

Kaoru's steps faltered in the doorway. "I don't like it any more than you do," he returned, so soft that one could have easily missed it. Slowly, Hikaru turned to face him with a twisted brow.

"You're the one who left."

"I might have left, but you never did." However much he wanted to avert his gaze, he forced himself to stare straight into the matching hazel gaze with determination in speaking his mind. He blinked as his eyes started to water. "I could never get away from you. I walk down the street and see your face reflected in the windows. I go to sleep only to dream of you, so that when I wake up again I expect to see you lying next to me. Every time I call mom or dad I ask about you, and it hurts to hear that you can't let me go. Every time I talk to Kyouya, you've been by and nothing's changed. I dye my hair and people _still _ask me if I'm related to you. There are even some people who are convinced that I _am _you."

"What are you talking about?" Hikaru returned mournfully, emerging at last from stunned silence as the others remained trapped within it. His fist shook with either suppressed sobs or the desire to punch something while the rest of him struggled to remain calm as he took in the heavy words. "_Everything's _changed. It's like I don't know you anymore."

"You know me better than anyone else in the world," the other brother insisted, caught between wanting to assuage Hikaru's fears of isolation and pointing out the truth of the way things were presently. "You know that. It's always been that way."

"What about Kyouya? What about that guy you're living with?"

"They only know what I was like after we met. You've known me forever."

"It doesn't seem like I know you now."

"You knew me then, and the past plays a large role in shaping who we are."

"But since you left... that past we put together..."—His gaze fell to the floor.—"it doesn't seem like it's worth anything anymore."

Kaoru's words weren't sure how to go about it from here. While the memories still meant very much to him, he couldn't say the same for Hikaru. Maybe there had always been that little separation between them that had helped in leading to their eventual departure from the other – Hikaru lived in the present, while Kaoru dwelled on the past. This might have expressed itself as impulsiveness versus contemplation – a seemingly insignificant difference in the long run – but the fracture had always been there.

Kaoru's vision started to blur, telling him that his heart knew where to go from here. He averted his gaze in order to hide the oncoming tears.

"I'm... I'm sorry I'm not worth anything to you anymore," came out in a whisper.

"Kaoru, you know that's not what I meant—" But when he tried to reach out, Kaoru retracted from his touch. When Kaoru walked past him towards the stairs, Hikaru latched onto his arm to pull him back. "Kaoru—" Needless to say, he was not prepared for the interruption or the violent wrench that caused it.

"Let go of me!" Kaoru shouted, his whole body shaking. "I left _you _alone; Why can't you do the same for me?"

"I never wanted to be alone! I wanted you—" A squeeze on his arm interrupted another potential tirade.

"Stop it, Hikaru," commanded the owner of the seizing hand, though gently. "That's enough." Hikaru glanced down to his left to see Haruhi pleading. Then he glanced in front of him to see his brother on his knees, fingers clenched around balusters and skin ashen.

"...Kaoru?"

The younger twin struggled to part lips turned blue, but words could not emerge therefrom. Silently he shook his head over and over again as his brother could do nothing but stand paralyzed by fear and insecurity. Their eyes went wide at the same time when Kaoru collapsed onto the floor, though his fluttered closed soon afterward. A scream would have been welcome relief from the deathly silence. Letting the book fall carelessly from his hands, Kyouya rushed over to the unconscious man's side as soon as the disturbing sound hit his ear drums.

"Tamaki, call an ambulance," he said, placing two fingers on Kaoru's wrist and a ear to his chest.

﻿


	14. Chapter 14: Heaven

**Chapter 14**

_Sometimes it's hard to breathe alone  
_- "Heaven," Live

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Hikaru would remember little of the trip to the hospital for the sedative injected into his arm upon the EMTs' arrival due to his violent terror of them taking away his little brother. Tamaki, however, swore he would remember every word murmured subconsciously under the Hitachiin's breath and the steel grip on his hand during the ride in the back of the ambulance for the rest of his life. The last time he had seen Hikaru cry was after escorting Kyouya from Japan, and even then but minute tears of regret had let themselves fall. Haruhi knew, if nothing else, she would remember the horror on all their faces; and she thought she had never seen Kyouya cry.

Tamaki met them in the lobby of the emergency center with profuse, illogical apologies for the lack of room for more than two in the ambulance, only to be countered by the Ootori's realistic points. Their classic disagreement could do nothing preventative towards the sight Haruhi encountered upon entering the hospital room, however; the oxygen mask and steady pumps of assisted breaths nearly stopping hers in her throat. When Kyouya immediately asked to speak with one of the physicians, she had to wonder if a rare anxiety was part of his choice towards avoidance.

"He's just unconscious, but not breathing enough on his own," Tamaki spoke up regretfully, knowing she deserved to be told yet not wanting to be the one to express it. "They said his blood pressure is dangerously low." Fingers clenched across the edge of the bed, he stared at the monitor on the wall as if pleading the numbers to increase to a safer level.

"Do they know why?" asked Haruhi, taken aback by how hoarse her own voice sounded.

"No... but"—His gaze drifted over her head to the dark-haired man standing next to a doctor in the doorway.—"I think Kyouya does." As if the other had heard, the conversation soon finished. Kyouya followed the sound of the beeping machines to Kaoru's bedside. Tamaki started to speak his name in question, but Kyouya had already reached out to trace the outline of the bed and its contents with his hands. Finally, careful fingers fell upon cool, stiff ones, one of which pinched by the oximeter. Without a word, Kyouya shocked the two onlookers by climbing into bed beside the Hitachiin, laying his head on a shoulder and closing his smoky eyes.

When the initial amazement dissipated, Tamaki smiled as if in secret as his grip loosened, if slowly. As if he knew that Kyouya would take significant care of the other, as he likely did, he allowed himself to step away from the bedside. Leaning against the window ledge, he took out a cell phone and proceeded to press a speed dial. By the French that followed, Haruhi assumed the call was likely directed toward the nanny in explanation of the circumstances.

She herself, after offering Kaoru's still hand a hopeful squeeze, drifted over to the lounge chair that had been pulled out into a visitor's cot upon which Hikaru lay, still pseudo-sleeping silently from the sedative. Finding a place on the edge of the makeshift bed, Haruhi let her head fall into her hands, catching the drops in their palms. She couldn't remember the last time she cried. Almost immediately, warm arms wrapped themselves around her slim frame, and for once she did not immediately push them away.

"He's going to be okay, Haruhi," she heard Tamaki whisper in consolation. Even if she could have found the words, her attempt to respond came out as but a dry sob that only brought him to hold her even closer.

After moments of seeming eternity – it could have easily been hours – another voice broke through the frozen silence, though it was not among one of those she had been primarily expecting.

"Tamaki, call the nurse in," Kyouya ordered softly. "He's awake." Instantly, the arms left, leaving a cold breeze in their place. After pressing the call button on the terminal as they had been previously instructed, Tamaki went to Kyouya's side as the latter sat up but did not stand. In contrast, Haruhi felt the need to wait until the smiling nurse arrived to remove the intimidating mask from her friend's face before approaching, though from behind the other two men's forms she could still see hints of motion, such as the shuffling of asleep feet and fiddling of fingers. The dry coughs that followed were as if their owner had not breathed in quite some time, and would not stop until the nurse brought him a glass of water. Gingerly, Haruhi came over. Kaoru tossed her a pitiful glance as he leaned heavily on Kyouya's shoulder.

"I-I'm s-sorry..." he choked out, rubbing furiously at bloodshot, hazel eyes.

"Don't apologize for being sick," Tamaki assured with his comforting smile. "Of course we're worried about you and want to see you healthy, but it's certainly not your fault." Kaoru didn't respond, but at least his worried glance brought Haruhi to notice the distinct frown that marred Kyouya's face. Before she could find her own words of condolence, the scene was interrupted by an unrecognizable voice expressed in accented English.

"You call this 'perfectly fine'?"

Gazes rose to see a slim figure, one eyebrow raised in dubiousness, enter through the doorway as the nurse left in the opposite direction.

"_Börje_!" Kaoru attempted to exclaim, though the hoarseness in his voice shadowed the tone of surprised joy. Slowly, he lifted himself from Kyouya's shoulder. The other man strolled across the room to sit down on the hospital bed in front of Kaoru, keeping his blue eyes locked onto the other's hazel ones all the while.

"What did I say would happen if you didn't take care of yourself?" he continued, placing the back of his hand on Kaoru's pale forehead as if to check for a fever. The younger turned on a shameful face.

"You wouldn't take me to the Nanne Grönvall concert..." he answered regretfully.

"Right. It's too bad those tickets will be wasted, isn't it? Hmm... Maybe I'll just take Kyouya. I'm sure he'd appreciate the music." After a sidelong glance at said person, he laughed at the shocked expression that subsequently appeared on Kaoru's face – one that soon mutated into a full-on pout. Börje ruffled the strawberry-blond-peach hair in order to dispel the disappointment. "Don't worry. If you make it up to yourself by the day of the concert, then we can go." As intended, the promise along with the affectionate gestures brought at least some relief to Kaoru's countenance.

"I will," he assured.

"I should hope so," interjected Kyouya, "as much as I'd love to attend the performance." With the clear sarcasm, the others felt free to express their amusement. Then, Tamaki voiced the assumption that had been on most of their minds since the Swedish man's sudden arrival:

"I take it Kyouya was the one who called you here?" He turned to the newcomer with his one of his characteristic smiles and an outstretched hand. Börje happily took the hand and gave it in introductory shake.

"That's right," he confirmed with a polite smile of his own. "You must be 'Lord' Tamaki."

Cerulean eyes lit up in self-pride. "Indeed I am! I'm glad to know that Kaoru has talked about me so much." Overcome with flattery, he didn't notice when the mentioned one rolled his eyes. "'_Börje_'... is that right?" he continued, testing the pronunciation in the presence of an actual Scandinavian.

The other nodded. "_Börje Skjöldebrand_," he specified, but upon seeing the distressed look on the blonde's face added, "but you can just call me Börje."

"I, on the other hand, would prefer to be called Dr. Hallestrøm," cut in a deep, unrecognizable voice just then. Heads turned as another Scandinavian man approached, this one sporting the typical lab coat and stethoscope. In turn, he shook hands with both Tamaki and Haruhi. "Kaoru's personal physician, whose guidance to stay out of trouble apparently went unheeded..." He tossed a reprimanding glance at the young man in question, who shrank in embarrassment. By his side, Börje's frown grew.

"Luckily," Dr. Hallestrøm continued, "according to what Börje and Kyouya told me, this incident shouldn't be too big of a deal, and we should just have to run some tests"—and so he began taking Kaoru's vitals—"before we have you back on your feet in no time. That is, _if _you can promise to keep it that way." Biting his lip, Kaoru gave a slow nod in agreement to conditions that clearly had not been stated for the first time. By the time the doctor had gathered all the necessary data – along with a blood sample, much to the patient's chagrin – and so left to process the information, Börje had wandered from the bed in the appearance of pensive musing with hazel eyes following after him.

"Börje, are you coming back...?" the owner of the trailing gaze questioned in concern once he was no longer occupied by an overbearing doctor. To his surprise, an answer was received neither verbally nor through physical motion.

"Kaoru, how many years are there between us?" was returned instead.

Taken aback by the sudden, seemingly unnecessary inquiry and sensitive nature thereof, Kaoru took a moment to answer, "Eight," even though he knew it far too well.

"How many years have we known each other?"

"Five."

"In those five years, how much has happened? What could happen in eight more? Would you regret the eight years that I've had that you never would? Would you— Would we..." As his voice trailed off into incomprehensible mutterings, Kaoru's brow twisted more and more.

"_Börje_? I can't understand what you're saying," the latter pleaded, even trying, "_Jag först__å__r inte._" to seemingly no avail. Then, abruptly, in but a few, swift motions, Börje marched back over to the bed, cradled Kaoru's head in both his hands, and brought their foreheads together.

"_Jag älskar dig_. That's all you need to know," he said plainly.

"I love you, too," Kaoru repeated back to him once the initial shock had faded. Whether Börje understood the sob-cracked Japanese or simply embraced the sentiment hanging on the words did not matter.

"_Jag kommer alltid finnas här för dig_," he whispered.

"_Jag med_," Kaoru responded.

"That's a promise?" A nod. "And you're going to do everything you can to keep it?" This time, the nod was reluctant, but nevertheless handed over. "So what are you going to tell _him_?" With a jerk of the head, Börje gestured towards the cot in the corner of the room, where Hikaru was at last emerging from his induced slumber. For once in his life, Kaoru was nervous concerning the return of his twin. "I leave it to you." With one, last squeeze of the hand, Börje drifted away once more. This time, however, he headed with purpose towards the opposite corner of the room, pulling a magazine from the shelves and settling into a lounge chair with it. Following the Swede's guidance, Tamaki gently tapped Kyouya on the shoulder in indication that they should do the same. Haruhi stepped back from the hospital bed as Kyouya slid off of it, and the three of them fell back to sidelines.


	15. Chapter 15: Kings of Medicine II

**Chapter 15**

_Don't leave me here to pass through time  
__Without a map or road sign  
__Don't leave me here, my guiding light  
__'Cause I wouldn't know where to begin  
_- "Kings of Medicine," Placebo

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After letting his gaze, begging for assistance, linger on his companions for a moment longer, Kaoru turned to the task at hand. Rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand, Hikaru practically stumbled over to his brother's side. Nervously, he then extended the hand forward, letting Kaoru take it if he so chose. Automatically, Kaoru interdigitated their fingers.

"Kaoru... I'm so sorry. I said some mean things to you back there," Hikaru tried, his desperation and honesty evident.

"Yeah, me too," replied Kaoru, his gaze lowering.

"You know I love you, right?"

Instantly, his gaze shot back up to meet Hikaru's. "Of course. I love you, too."

"Then... why did you leave? We used to understand each other perfectly, but I don't understand this at all."

A wry smile. "I don't expect you to. Just believe me – I thought I needed some space."

In the decided silence that followed, Hikaru was debating this novel idea when a certain detail concerning the word usage occurred to him. "What do you mean 'thought'?" he prodded. "You could have always come back home."

"That's just it. By the time I realized that I might have given myself _too much _space, it was too late to get rid of it."

"There you go, talking like you're going off to war or something."—Kaoru visibly winced.—"Too late for what? It's never too late for you to come back home." Upon repeating those last three words, Hikaru could not longer retain the feelings that had been bottled up during the first reiteration. At last, a tear broke through, gathering at the corner of his eye. "It's not just me, either. We've all missed you."

"Yeah, I know you will," the younger Hitachiin replied sullenly with a twisted smile to match. In the presence of such terminology, Hikaru couldn't help but become flustered.

"Stop talking like that, Kaoru!" he exclaimed, clamping a hand around the other's shoulder. "Why can't you just come home?" In despair, Kaoru tried tossing a glance around at his friends around the room, but received no assistance in the matter. Haruhi appeared just as at a loss as his twin. Absorbed in his magazine, Börje seemingly ignored the look on purpose (not that he likely understood much of the content of the conversation that lead to it), while Tamaki remained occupied in silently consoling Kyouya as he rested on the blonde's shoulder. Just when Hikaru was about to repeat the question, footsteps from the door indicated that Dr. Hallestrøm had returned from his journey to the laboratory. The other Swede at last glanced up from his reading.

"All right, Kaoru, the test results are in, and— Who's this?" the physician interrupted himself as his flabbergasted gaze caught on the mirror image of the man to whom he had been speaking.

"Kaoru's brother, Hikaru," said Hitachiin answered after the silence that made it evident the other twin was not about to answer himself had passed.

"_Twin_ brother?" Upon receipt of the nod, the doctor abruptly turned on his feet, clearly agitated, walking around in a few circles before returning to the bedside with a sigh that spoke of both irritation and disappointment. "Kaoru, do I have to get the psych doctor in here or do you think you can convince me that you're not suicidal?"

"He is _not_!" Hikaru protested immediately, glaring dangers at the suggester. The lack of mirrored exclamation, however, turned his gaze away from the doctor to his twin, who was found burying his face in his knees.

"I thought you said acceptance was a good thing," he muttered into the fabric of his pants so that not only was the exact phrasing left unclear, but so too the precise individual to whom it was directed.

"When there are no other options, yes," responded the doctor. "Assuming Hikaru here still has both of his, you have other options. Choosing death... it's disturbing."

"'_Death_'!?" Hikaru repeated, clutching his brother's shoulder with a clenched fist. "Kaoru, what is he talking about?"

"That's not true!" Kaoru protested, the sobs breaking through to his voice. "I don't have any other options – I can't put Hikaru at risk like that."

"Yes, you can!" was automatically returned. Hikaru didn't care that he hardly knew what the exact matter of discussion was. "If there's something I can do to help, I don't care what it is. I'd do anything for you – you know that, and I know that you'd do the same for me – that you _are _doing the same for me." By now, he had lapsed into Japanese, thereby leaving the physician with nothing more than a faint glimpse into the emotional content of the monologue. Slowly, Kaoru lifted his head from its hiding place to see a conviction in his twin's eyes he hadn't seen in a while. "But it's not working, so why don't we both just stop it? Tell me, Kaoru, what I can do." It was not a request, but an order; Kaoru bit his lip. The sidelong glance he threw Kyouya was left unseen.

"Hikaru," he started, voice cracking. "Can I... have... a kidney?"

Hikaru blinked. "That's it?" The relief spread itself across his face in the form of a nervous grin. "Of course!" Flinging himself at his other half, he gathered the form into a grand hug. "On one condition: you have to tell me why you need it – what this whole thing is about." The anxiety that left upon finally asking the vital question returning, Kaoru threw a desperate glance over Hikaru's shoulder at his doctor.

"Don't look at me," he said, shrugging. "I can't understand a word you're saying."

"What's wrong with your kidneys?" continued Hikaru in question, maintaining a solid stare on his younger brother.

"Well," Kaoru answered slowly after a moment, "nothing's wrong with them per say... It's the tumorous growths around them that's the problem."

"'Tumor'...?" Hazel eyes blinked rapidly. "You mean...?"

"_Cancer_?" Haruhi spoke the grave word, disbelieving, for him. Squeezing the tense hand on his shoulder, Kaoru nodded, but would not meet their stunned gazes.

"Kaoru," Hikaru gulped, trying to stop his voice from cracking, "how long has this been going on?"

"...Three years." His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Do mom and dad know?" A negative shake of the head. "But you told Kyouya?" Slowly, a nod. "Why didn't you let me know? If I just give you a kidney, then you'll be all better, right?"

"It's not _just _a kidney!" protested Kaoru in abrupt vehemence. "It's your _health_. How am I supposed to compromise that? Like I said, I can't put you at risk like that. I don't care what Kyouya says – cancer is _too_ genetic. What if you get sick too? What are we supposed to do then?"

Clapping his hands down on Kaoru's shoulders, Hikaru stared him straight in the eyes with his own conviction. "Nothing. That's not going to happen. I won't let it happen."

"You can't—"

"Shut up, Kaoru," Hikaru interrupted definitively. Instantly, the younger twin's mouth clamped shut as the shock of his brother's anger lit up on his face. "Have some faith in me, will you? I'm giving you my kidney whether you like it or not." At this point, all Kaoru could do was capitulate. Then, abruptly, Hikaru's scowl turned upwards into an assuring smile. "Thanks for trying to keep me safer and out of this, but I'm your big brother – I'm supposed to protect you." After an especially long period of time passed in which nothing more needed to be verbally exchanged between them, Dr. Hallestrøm took it upon himself to promote further progress.

"I take it that means you've come to an agreement?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in slight irritation at having been made to wait for their unintelligible altercation to pass.

"Of sorts," Hikaru answered for them when his twin made it clear the still-present reluctance prevented him from verbally admitting his capitulation. At last returning from his preoccupation, Börje tossed Kaoru a pleased, proud look. Lifting himself from Tamaki's shoulder, Kyouya extended a hand, which Kaoru guided into his own.

"Finally... Then I shall schedule you both for the surgery. Would you prefer to do it here or head back up to Stockholm first?"

"Here," the twins responded simultaneously, glancing first at each other then around the room at their conglomeration of friends.

"What do we have to do?" continued Hikaru in question.

"That actually relates to what I was going to say before I was distracted by the surprise donor here," the doctor explicated. Although his gaze remained transfixed on the file in his hands, his hand absently waved a pen in Hikaru's direction. "According to the test results, Kaoru's immune system is still in too much of a state of shock to safely perform the surgery now. We should wait at least 24 hours for it to calm down, and for the current treatment to decrease in potency, due to its additional interference with the immune system. By Friday it'll be almost a week since you've had the previous injection, correct?" Kaoru nodded. It occurred to Hikaru that a week ago Friday had been the day he and Haruhi had flown to Stockholm; thus, "almost a week" could've been referring to when the younger Hitachiin had mysteriously left for the "studio" on the following Sunday morning.

"That should be fine, then," continued the doctor unaffectedly. "I'll schedule the both of you for early Friday afternoon; come in by 10 in the morning. In the meantime, go home to wherever you're staying, but don't do anything the least bit strenuous." Upon receipt of the reprimanding glare, Kaoru gulped.

"Yes, sir," he agreed nervously. Nodding in approval, Dr. Hallestrøm took his leave.

"_Mår du bättre_?" inquired Börje with a smile that said he already knew the answer.

"_Ja, jag mår bättre nu_," said Kaoru, and even though the others could only guess what it meant, even they could read his unwillingness to admit it.

"I assume you'd like me to stay here for Friday?"

"Won't your students need you?"

"Not as much as you need me." He gave an assuring smile, reaching forward to brush his hand against Kaoru's cheek. "They won't mind. They know how important you are to me."

Once a nurse had finished removing every wire to which Kaoru was connected, he carefully slid out of bed as if he wasn't sure his own two feet could support him. Luckily, both Hikaru and Börje were standing close by to catch him if needed, although the scowl the former sent the latter claimed the former would definitely get there first.

"All right, everyone, it's time to go home and to bed!" exclaimed Tamaki in his typically – if ironically – cheery voice, leading the train out the door. As soon as they all returned to his house, the individuals filed into their provided rooms for much-needed rest. A sleepy Héloïse was dropped off into her parents' arms, allowing the nanny to finally go off to bed as well. Much to Tamaki's futile disapproval, Börje opted to sleep on the couch (the only other, viable option being a hotel room, which was entirely out of the question) so that the twins could continue to share a room with each other. Although most of them soon fell into various states of sleep, about an hour later, Kyouya back came downstairs to offer Börje some tea.


	16. Chapter 16: Come Back Down

**Chapter 16**

_You say you feel lost  
__Can I help you find it?  
__From time to time we all are blinded_

_You don't have to tell me what you're feeling  
__I know what you're going through  
__I won't be the one that lets go of you_

_I think it's time to just move on  
_- "Come Back Down," Lifehouse

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The heavy silence, punctuated only by the five-year-old slamming his crayon into paper, irritated Hikaru to no end. With one, last gulp of his drink – the vodka sending an invigorating, burning sensation down his throat – he stood from the table with finality.

"Come on, Kyouya, we should get going," he suggested, still insecure about leaving off the honorific in respect to his companion, regardless of the trust they had developed in one another. That Kyouya would rely on Hikaru to act as his better-sighted guide on the way over to France was indication enough.

"Take care of yourself," Fuyumi said, wiping the corners of her eyes with a napkin.

"And you, Fuyumi-neesan," replied Kyouya, standing and moving to share in a hug with his sister. "I love you." Although it was clearly hard for him to proclaim such a feeling out loud, he did so in complete honesty.

"I love you, too, Kyouya-san." She smiled at him for a long moment before turning to the five-year-old boy. "Kyuichi, say good-bye to your uncle." When the child did as he was told, Kyouya ruffled the short, dark hair and returned the sentiment. As Kyouya grabbed the backpack by his seat, Hikaru took out a few bills with which to pay for the meal, and – much opposed to her insistence – left them with Fuyumi. They left the patio and headed for the nearest parking lot where the driver was already waiting with the car to take them to the airport.

When they arrived, the driver removed two suitcases from the trunk, one much larger than the other, indicative of a much longer trip, and stuffed with personal items brought over to the Hitachiin mansion on a gradual, secretive basis. Kyouya grabbed the handle as Hikaru took hold of the smaller suitcase. With a bow, per order the driver left them to head towards the terminal by themselves. With an unusual care, Hikaru made sure he stayed a reasonable yet visible distance in front of the other as they silently made their way across the floor.

As they waited for their plane to arrive, Hikaru sat nervously in his chair at the terminal, this being his first time flying without a relative. Then again, if he knew what having a brother – not a twin, just a brother – felt like, by now Kyouya might have fallen into that emotional category, regardless of how the elder was supposed to be the "mother" of the Host Club.

"Do you need anything, Kyouya?" it occurred to him to ask. "Coffee? A sandwich, maybe?" It wasn't the first time he wanted to talk to somebody just for the sake of it; he hadn't heard Kaoru in his head in years.

"I'm fine, thank you," Kyouya answered, masking the true sentiment – _No, don't leave_ – with irritation at being considered dependent. However, it wasn't long before he seemingly changed his mind. "Yet... There is... one thing you can do for me."

"Yeah?"

Leaning over, he rested his head on Hikaru's shoulder. Although he was taken aback at first, Hikaru easily relaxed into this position, automatically reaching over to stroke the dark hair. "That, I could do without."

Wincing, he instantly retracted his arm. "Right, sorry... Force of habit." The sniffle that followed reflected the well-known fact that he didn't want to voice for fear it would send him into an alcohol-craving hysteria once again: Kaoru liked having his hair stroked.

When fingers slipped into Hikaru's, the redhead didn't push them away.

"He'll be okay," whispered Kyouya. "You both will."

He no longer had a response for that assurance. After a long pause, Hikaru squeezed the other's hand to indicate it as the reference for his following sentence. "Careful, Kyouya," he warned, attempting to lighten the mood. "People might get the wrong impression about us."

The other chuckled. "Does it bother you?"

"No," he confirmed, perhaps a little too quickly. Then, a wistful smile came across his face as his gaze drifted over to the runway, where their plane was approaching the terminal. "You don't have to worry about impressing anyone anymore."

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For the first time since she had arrived at Tamaki and Kyouya's house, Haruhi woke up on her own time, with no boisterous calls at early hours of the morning to interrupt her sleep. Likewise, the day was spent in the most lazy, uneventful of fashions as allowed of late, though the air was constantly filled with anticipation for that which was to transpire the following day.

As Haruhi resumed work on her case, Kaoru sat on the couch, flanked by his two overprotective guardians. Hikaru watched critically over Kaoru's shoulder as Börje made his way through a stack of papers similar to that which he had been working on back in Stockholm. As soon as he separated the first document from the others, Kaoru picked it up and began to read, frowning at the challenge of the Swedish written upon it.

"Here, take this one instead," offered Börje, lifting another paper from the pile in front of him and handing it to Kaoru. "It's in English." Returning the previous one, Kaoru gratefully accepted the new article.

"A plus!?" he exclaimed immediately upon first glance. "Wow, you didn't even give _me _an A on this paper."

Börje shrugged. "Scandinavian art history wasn't your specialty."

"Wait, _what_?" Hikaru cut in, turning a disapproving glare on his twin. After the moment required for Kaoru to realize the problem had passed, he too shrugged casually in contrast to his twin's irritation.

"You knew he was a professor," he defended innocently.

"True, but you didn't tell me he was _your _professor," pointed out Hikaru, gesturing pointedly at the oblivious man in question.

"How does that make a difference?" Regardless of how he was the one to ask for elaboration on the matter, Kaoru clearly already knew the answer.

Realizing this, Hikaru just stared at him flatly. "...Nothing." Although he easily brushed off the issue, it was obvious to them all that it had been far from resolved. Fortunately, for the sake of future provocation, Kyouya took that moment to descend the stairs, at last awoken from a deep slumber, thereby cutting off the current conversation. On the other hand, after the traditional greetings, one seemingly innocent comment invoked an entirely different set of delicate matters.

"It's pretty warm today, Kyouya; you should wear short-sleeves," Kaoru said, eyes focused on the lengths of cloth covering the entirety of the other's arms. Attention grabbed by the horns, Hikaru started. Kyouya himself froze, trying to land a indecipherable gaze on the younger twin.

"I don't think that's a good idea..." Hikaru trailed off, glancing nervously at both Haruhi and Börje – the two of them oblivious, if for separate reasons – before facing his brother once more. Instead of the innocent "Why not?" Hikaru expected, Kaoru gave him a soft, understanding smile.

"It's okay," was all he said before putting down the papers in his hands and standing. Although he glanced up briefly at the movement, Börje soon enough turned back to his work once the other's intended path was clear. On his way towards the stairs, Kaoru locked his arm around Kyouya's in order to carry the other with him back up to the bedroom.

"Has anyone ever told you that your idea of revenge is a bit twisted?" asked Kyouya rhetorically, following the other reluctantly yet without protest up the staircase.

"Once or twice," Kaoru answered casually, his smirk indicating the estimate to be far on the modest side. When they returned from their expedition, Kyouya was sporting a different, short-sleeved shirt as promised and Kaoru a look somehow crossed between self-satisfaction and a reflection of Hikaru's own insecurity. In display, the older twin bit his lip. Regardless of how Kyouya kept his arms crossed as if he were particularly displeased, Haruhi remained bewildered as to what the fuss was all about.

She didn't find out until lunch, when she happened to glance over just as Kyouya was reaching up to retrieve a new bottle of soy sauce from the cabinet, strike after strike of healed-over scars in plain sight on his lower arm. She nearly choked on her glass of water at the sight. When Kyouya placed the bottle on the table, he made no indication of whether or not he had noticed the reaction, though it was safer to assume he did, considering his keen perception. Börje only gazed at him in pity, mild enough to imply that even he had already known.


	17. Chapter 17: Everything

**Chapter 17**

_Look into your hands  
__I'm slipping through them like a tiny grain of sand  
_- "Everything," Stereo Fuse

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After long, grueling hours of waiting and watching French talk shows, Dr. Hallestrøm at last emerged from the double-doors of the operating room, heading in their direction.

"Everything went fine, just as anticipated," he said, bringing them all to breathe unanimous sighs of relief. "Hikaru's in the recovery room. Kaoru went up to the ICU, but that's purely for monitoring purposes. He'll join the other in an hour or two – as soon as he's stabilized."

"That's great," Haruhi voiced for them all. "Did you tell them that would happen before they went in?"

Dr. Hallestrøm nodded. "Oh, certainly; we made sure to notify them of the arrangement. Good thing, too."—Grinning, he shook his head in disbelief.—"We had a hard enough time getting their hands apart as it is."

"That's Hikaru and Kaoru for you," Tamaki laughed, letting his assured gaze rest on Börje's sympathetic, if subtle, reaction to the described circumstances.

"_Est-ce qu'il y a quelqu'un qui s'appelle 'Kyouya' ici_?" a nurse suddenly asked, coming up from behind the doctor. Even before Tamaki translated the question for the rest of them, Kyouya had lifted his head up from the blonde's lap at the sound of his name. "_Monsieur __Hikaru le cherche_."

"_Je m'appelle Kyouya_," he answered, moving to a full, upright position.

"_Ah, bon. Suivez-moi, s'il vous pla__î__t._"

"She wants you to follow," aided Tamaki, guiding his friend in the nurse's direction. By the sound of her footsteps, Kyouya followed her down innumerable hallways until they stopped at one of the rooms. After opening the door, she allowed him to enter before letting them be. When at last Hikaru's voice emerged from the silence, it was choked with dehydration and nervousness.

"You can come closer."

"Is that a request?" Kyouya returned carefully, his tone perhaps a little stiffer than he had meant it to be.

"Yes... but you don't have to listen to it if you don't want to." Biting his lip, he watched as the other took a few steps closer with a hand outstretched in order to ensure that he didn't crash into any obstacles. Once his fingers brushed against the edge of the mattress, he stopped in his tracks.

"How are you feeling?" he offered in congeniality, the true concern behind the inquiry left unclear.

With a gulp, Hikaru forced himself not to swallow the answer he needed to give. "Sorry," he offered honestly, "for accusing you of not telling me that you found him. Since he sought out to tell you about this"—His voice still faltered at the word.—"disease, he must really trust you. So, I'm sorry that I didn't." Throughout the entire confession, Kyouya kept his arms folded across his chest as he listened intently. Once he was given a chance to speak, he did so slowly and deliberately.

"I expected nothing less from you. I appreciate the apology, but there's no need."

Hikaru let his mouth hang open for a moment at the received response before it closed into a wry smile. "Right. You must know me better than I know myself by now, huh?" His gaze fell away from its object of the other young man, drifting off into the opposite side of the room. However, the sound of departing footsteps immediately retracted his attention. "Wait, Kyouya. Don't go yet," he demanded, desperately trying to stop it from sounding like a plea. "I have another question."

As much as he didn't want to face the inevitable inquiry, Kyouya stopped in his tracks. "Yes?"

"If you _had _been the one to find him, would you have told me?"

Unexpectedly, the response rolled off his tongue: "I believe you should know the answer to that by now."

"Yeah, but I wanted to hear you say it," Hikaru admitted, a hint of embarrassment creeping into his mostly playful tone. As it didn't demand a response, Kyouya felt welcome to restart on his path to the door. However, once again the redhead's words caught him thinking twice. "Wait, Kyouya. Don't go yet."

"I thought you said you only had one more question," Kyouya pointed out.

"I did," affirmed Hikaru, a self-satisfied smile starting to sprout, "but that's not why I wanted you to stay." This time, as soon as Kyouya returned to his side, Hikaru grabbed his hand. "Have you gone to see Kaoru yet?"

"No, but the others should be there now. The doctors said he's doing fine, and should make it up here in a few hours."

"That's good." Even though Kyouya wouldn't notice, Hikaru felt the need to avert his gaze during his next question. "I know it's selfish of me to ask, but... will you stay with me until then?"

"Even if Kaoru asks for me?"

"No. If Kaoru asks, then you can go to him. But if he doesn't..."

"...then I see no harm in that arrangement," Kyouya finished, claiming a seat on the edge of the bed. As Hikaru's smile continued to grow, he brought his gaze back.

The predicted few hours later, Kyouya was forced to drop his hand from Hikaru's grasp so that the two brothers could join theirs from across the divide between their two cots. Even though Kaoru appeared fairly worse for wear – having just gone through a major surgery as a cancer patient with an imperfect immune system – Hikaru nonetheless smiled at him, proud of him for going through with it.

"How are you feeling, Kaoru?"

"Weird," he answered truthfully. "My insides feel all messed up." As they shared laughter, Hikaru echoed the sentiment.

"Look at this way," he suggested, "now you'll _literally _have a part of me with you forever."

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When a knock sounded on the door frame, Haruhi glanced up from her packing to see Hikaru standing the doorway, fingers nervously clenched around the edge of what appeared to be a notebook.

"Do you have a minute, Haruhi?" he asked.

"I suppose," she conceded, "but I do want to finish packing as soon as possible."

"Don't worry – this'll only take a minute," he assured her, stepped forward into the room. The sketchbook he handed her displayed a familiar, Renaissance-inspired dress on the opened page.

"Oh, you finished it?" she assumed, resting on the edge of the bed to allow for proper consideration of the picture. Every detail of the design appeared to have been finally worked out and put to paper over repeated eraser smudges.

"Yeah. I wanted to know what you think."

"It's beautiful," she offered honestly. "Is it a ball gown? Or a wedding dress?"

"Yeah, a wedding dress," he answered, crouching down in front of her. "Would you wear it?"

She blinked at the seemingly innocent yet random question. "What use would I have for—" She stopped, open-mouthed, the breath having caught in her throat as a small jewelry case was slid across the page. The lid was lifted, revealing a gold band with a simple, yet sparkling arrangement of gemstones across the top. Her widened gaze drifted from the ring to Hikaru and back, but he would show her nothing more than traces of the Hitachiin smirk. "Hikaru... What are you asking?" To her surprise, her voice was practically breathless.

"I'm asking you to marry me," he confirmed her inkling with surprising confidence.

"I... I—" With a finger on her lips, he interrupted her half-formed response.

"You don't have to answer yet. Take your time. Take it." He took it upon himself to shut the case and place it gently in her hand. "Keep it – forever. I don't want it back. If you decide to say yes, then you can put it on, and I'll know. Either way, thank you for considering."

"Oh... okay..." was all she could bring herself to say. With a final smile, twisted in the way only Hikaru could manage, he left her to her thoughts. There, she couldn't help but continue to stare in shock and near-disbelief at the ring and the dress. And here her father joked that she'd end up a bitter, old hag if she wasn't careful.

"Haruhi, dinner's ready!" Tamaki announced, peeking around the door frame. However, upon sight of what lay beyond it, his grin fell into surprise. Still perched on the edge of the bed, Haruhi remained staring at the glittering ring within its velvet case. At Tamaki's call, she glanced up, startled, having been too distracted to have heard his previously approaching footsteps.

"Tamaki..."

"What do you have there?" Like an excitable child, he knelt down to get a closer look at the object. When it became clear that it was meant as an engagement ring, cerulean eyes widened.

"Hikaru asked me to marry him," she explained, her tone clear that she was still in a state of shock over the matter. For a brief moment, she could have sworn she caught regret flashing across the blonde's features, but his face reverted to its usual, glad self soon after.

"That's great! Congratulations." The sincerity in his voice nearly tore her apart.

"Really? You're happy for me? But I thought... you wanted to..."

"Haruhi." Gently he took her free hand in his and stared her straight in the eye. "I'd be honored to marry you. But with Kyouya, Héloïse, and the Center... I wouldn't be able to give you the life you deserve. You deserve more than this person, who promised to come back for you only to ignore you for years. I certainly didn't mean to, but things got out of hand, and—"

"Tamaki," she stopped him, "It's fine; it all worked out in the end. You're forgiven." His face lit up in genuine relief. "You already have a family here."

"Thanks. Besides," he continued with a bittersweet smile, "they say if you love someone, you should let them go, right?" Taken aback by his implicit confession, it took a moment for her to respond, and even then could only manage a slight nod in the circumstances. Letting her hand slip from his grasp, Tamaki stood and headed back for the door. "Dinner's ready," he repeated absently.

Gathering herself up, Haruhi too stood with conviction. "Tamaki," she called, successfully earning his attention once more, "does this mean I have my father's blessing?" At the smile that said she would play his game for this short time, he laughed.

"Definitely."

_The End_


	18. Epilogue: The Climb

**Epilogue**

_There's always going to be another mountain  
__I'm always going to want to make it move  
__Always going to be an uphill battle  
__Sometimes I'm going to have to lose_

_Ain't about how fast I get there  
__Ain't about what's waiting on the other side  
__It's the climb  
_- "The Climb," Miley Cyrus

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Kyouya flipped open his phone and put it to his ear. "Yes?"

"Hey, Kyouya."

He didn't stop the smile, if small, from appearing on his face. "Nice to hear from you, Kaoru. How's it going?" Even though he didn't specify, they both knew exactly to what he was referring.

"Dr. Hallestrøm's taking me off the treatment. I should be all done with the therapy in a couple months."

"Both of them?"

"No... I think I'm going to keep seeing the psych doctor for a little while."

"That's probably for the better," agreed Kyouya. By now, Tamaki had taken a seat beside him, leaning closer in an attempt to listen in on the conversation. Other than half-heartedly shoving him with his shoulder, Kyouya didn't bother pushing him away. "I'm glad to hear of such progress, but you don't sound as thrilled as one might anticipate."

"Oh, don't get me wrong – I'm happy to be getting well and everything, but," he started, hurried and nervous, "it means I don't have any leverage on you anymore." As dark as the conversation seemed, the other chuckled at Kaoru's word choice, simultaneously nodding to himself in understanding.

"Don't worry," he assured with a rare confidence in his own words, "I have far too much to live for now." After following the curve of Tamaki's arm down to his hand, Kyouya gave it a firm yet gentle squeeze as a tear drop fell on his shoulder.


End file.
